Better than half the stuff on TV

Me (doing some online shopping): I need to get my wallet.

Maddie (following me, using voiceover tones): Who will be safe? Who will live? Who will die?

Me: (blank stare)

Maddie: I was just trying to add some excitement to this adventure.

Compliments of the season

This is for all of you who remember Leah's past obsession with a certain holiday tune. I created this card at great risk to myself, since Leah's beginning to develop a new obsession with watching herself on the video. Happy holidays, and let's hope we're not in for Feliz Navidad: The Sequel.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Compliments of the season

This is for all of you who remember Leah's past obsession with a certain holiday tune. I created this card at great risk to myself, since Leah's beginning to develop a new obsession with watching herself on the video. Happy holidays, and let's hope we're not in for Feliz Navidad: The Sequel.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Her platform: A remote control in the hand of every child

"I'm Miss Hawaii."

That's how Leah greeted me one evening last week, wearing the following ensemble:

Apparently pageant rules require all Miss Hawaii contestants to be Texas Longhorns fans. And wear their mother's blue loafers.

Well, that's a relief

"At least we know she's never going to be a burglar."

-- Mike, after Maddie's morning exuberance woke us up more effectively than our alarm clock did.

Fantasy Football 2010: It's On!

With half an hour to go to our draft, unsurprisingly, Mike is perusing the preseason stats and I'm searching for the perfect team name and logo. Perhaps that is why he is the defending league champion and I barely made the playoffs.

This year's team will be referencing The Hangover. I've christened us Not Up In Here! (One of my fave throwaway lines from the movie.) My main reason for boring our handful of blog readers with a fantasy post is that I need a url for my team's logo.

Guess I'd better pick some players now, huh? I hear Ben Roethlisberger is set to have a great season!

iTwins

Amid the 'night before' excitement surrounding the first day of school, I helped Lauren and Maddie make their own 'iCarly' video. I don't think I'll be recruited for freelance camera work anytime soon.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

"Timing is Everything"

It's Leah's new favorite phrase.

If I give her a schedule for the day, she tells me, "Timing is everything."

If I tell her that we can't go to the pool now, but we can go in another hour, she responds, "Timing is everything." It's her mantra for the summer.

The other night, I was an unwilling -- OK, very angry -- referee between Lauren and Maddie, who were overtired and cranky as they put away some laundry. Before long, they were in a screaming match over the exact placement of the laundry basket, which they were supposed to be emptying. Having briefly imagined one or both was being maimed or killed, you can imagine my delight when I walked in their room and saw that the household was at a standstill because one of them wanted to move the laundry basket about six inches closer to the bedroom door. Or something like that. I refused to listen to tearful pleas about the latitude and longitude of the basket, placed it on a random spot, and told them rather forcefully that the basket was not moving from that spot. Maddie continued to voice her dissenting opinion (I think letting an argument go is simply not in that child's DNA), Lauren was in tears, and I was thinking how much cheaper it would have been to stop at one child. I gave them both the evil eye before letting them know, at full volume, "I. Don't. Care."

Apparently all the drama drew Leah to the scene, unnoticed until that moment. While the other two were either reeling from the evil eye or drawing breath for Round 12, Leah said, "I don't care either, Mommy."

She not only preaches it, she practices it: Timing is everything.

Summer vacation slideshow

Continuing the proud tradition of prompt uploading, here is a slide show Heather compiled of pix from our vacation in Duck, NC. Both sets of twins celebrated birthdays during the trip (one with slightly more significance than the other), so 'Twins Day' is prominently featured.

Vacation photos: The twins' parasailing adventure

My plan was to take Leah parasailing during our Outer Banks vacation. She has never been a particularly fearful kid, and she loves wind, so I thought cruising above the beaches would be fifteen minutes of sensory bliss. I also imagined the twins, who have fairly active imaginations, would want nothing to do with it.

And of course, the opposite happened: Leah nixed parasailing (I'm still convinced she would have loved it once she'd gotten up there, but I had no desire to argue with her on the deck of a moving boat) and the twins were all over the idea. So their Uncle Kevin and I took them instead.

Ready for takeoff. Strapping into the harness got Maddie a little nervous.

Up she goes: Once she was airborne, Maddie's fear was replaced by excitement. She gave us a big "Oh, YEAH!" as soon as we left the deck. Lauren wore a 'What have I done?' expression for the first five minutes or so, but once she realized the harnesses were going to hold us, she relaxed and enjoyed the views.


The optional 'toe dip' dipped a little more than our feet. It's an inexact science.

You can't see her behind the harness, but Lauren's smile was definitely back. The $40 photo package was worth it, I think, since we already lost one camera this year on a rollercoaster at Hershey Park.

Triumphant landing. Good time was had by all. The twins are still enjoying telling everyone on the birthday party circuit that they went parasailing this summer.

We ♥ Smartasses

Many of you know that our Lauren has selective mutism. Thanks mostly to an amazing therapist, the verb may be close to becoming "had" as she talked almost completely freely to everybody on our recent vacation with Alison's family.

The whole odyssey started three years ago, when Lauren seldom spoke to us from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Somehow, we got on the subject of that summer at dinner tonight. Just having Lauren be able to talk about this was unthinkable until recently. Everybody shared their memories, and I wrapped it up by saying "and Lauren hasn't had any problems talking to us since then."

Then she got that sparkle in her eyes and said, with flawless timing, "Until now."

And she shut up for about three seconds. Never has a laugh felt so good.

Why I love Craigslist

Every so often, I advertise for home program therapists on Craigslist. I've found some very good people through my Craigslist ad, which very clearly states (this will be important later) that I'm looking for someone to work with my autistic daughter and gives a brief summary of our program and the hours needed.

I'm usually able to triage my respondents pretty quickly -- the ones who look great on paper; the ones who look okay, which means they may be great in person or total duds; and the ones who should not have bothered to reply to the ad. Sometimes I'm wrong -- crappy applicants can come in some very good disguises. In the past, I've had one show up an hour late for an interview, and a few not show up at all. Another one had great credentials on paper, but virtually no personality when she arrived. She cut the interview off early, citing a family situation, said she'd follow up with me, and I never heard from her again. Which was fine, since our conversation would have revolved around me telling her I'd hired someone else.

This go-round has been notable for a few hilariously bad initial responses:

Hi.. So i was looking around and i saw your ad, I was curious if this was still for sale? Let me know! Thanks

Although I freely acknowledge I have occasionally been tempted to sell all three of my children to the highest bidder, I assure you I have never acted on that impulse.

Hi, Your ad is just want i wanted, but does this work 100% properly? Please contact me soon! Thank You

I checked, and I did not inadvertently substitute the words "refrigerator we just replaced" for "home therapists."

Dear Hiring Manager:

I am actively seeking a job as an Instruction Designer. I am an accomplished and quality-focused individual with years of experience and strong track record as a professional. Throughout my career I consistently establish integrity, quality and professionalism to provide organizations with broad array of services.

Although economical and environmental factors have not provided the job security I seek, it has provided me with a well-rounded history of organization, management, and solid knowledge base within my employment history.

Through a balanced combination of know-howe, I offer a demonstrated ability to exceed expectations from business and quality service perspectives. I believe my solid experience, expertise, education and character will make me a very suitable candidate for the Instructional Designer position.

My resume can only go so far in detailing what I can bring to your organization. This is why I believe it would serve us best to meet personally, in an interview, to discuss your needs and to demonstrate how I can add to your bottom line through my skills, expertise and experience.

Again thank you for your time and attention. Thank you in advance for considering my value offer. I look forward to our conversation.

Insert jokes about our bottom line here. I was curious, so I opened the resume attachment. Here's the summary:

Perceptive, creative, and disciplined business leader, expert in tackling the complex challenges of driving continuous improvement. Has an outstanding track record in identifying and analyzing uncertainties, risks, and opportunities that generate future growth, and tailoring business solutions through traditional and innovative avenues. A change agent, resourceful and inventive, acknowledged for elevating revenues, boosting team performances, and creating an environment of achievement for management and staff.

I wouldn't mind elevating my revenues, but at this point I was wondering what was up on Craigslist -- a server snafu, or an unusual number of people who can't read? I did receive a good number of responses from people who actually seemed to know what the ad said.

This one was my favorite:

Sup?

I got your ad on Craigslist
I am going make this message

short and sweet.
If you're interested to make a 'lil bit money on the internet,
then look at this page called: XXX

I am not going to bore you with a bunch of facts...
But, I will tell you that it will help.
Pretty much you bid on things,
and then resell it for more. The website is cool!
You can get a iPad there for like 1 to 2 dollars.

I'm bringing in around an extra $250 a day
just by selling the items I get on the
website and putting it on e-Bay.

Tell me how it goes!

Right in the trash, my friend.

I am interested in your ad. I am preschool teacher with Bachelors Degree in Elemntary Education. I have no previous expereince working with autistic children but it sounds interesting andc after I checked bfiefly the progam you mentioned you are using I think it would be great learning axperience.

I live in XXX. If you are still in search of a person to work with your girl please feel free to contact me with some more details as how namy hours a week/ month would you need and the kind of activities expected, is there a set curriculum or you just work on skills needed at the moment?

Spelling. Lots of spelling.

The last one could be a candidate for Teacher of the Year, but I allow one typo before I stop reading. If I were a career counselor, I would nag all of my clients to write their cover letters as though they were corresponding with someone with a nasty copy-editing habit. I would also advise them to read the ads they're answering.

Holland Schmolland

Flying under the radar is not always a Hamilton family forte. Particularly not when we arrive at the community pool only to be informed on no uncertain terms that Leah does not want to be there. At that point, we're left with a couple of unappealing choices: Public misbehavior by a 9-year-old who is acting like her shoe size, or rewarding bad behavior (as well as holding other family members hostage to it) by turning tail and leaving.

We've been doing this long enough to know that there are bigger problems than a few looks and the occasional comment, and one of those would be a child who believes she has something to gain by throwing a fit. For us this was a no-brainer: We stayed, and we put up with the shouting and the crying until Mike, with some well-timed roughhousing, was able to remind Leah why she loves to swim. A rocky start was transformed into a normal (for us) outing.

It made me think of a line from "Holland Schmolland," a wonderful essay about living with autism: " ... we ignore these looks and focus on the exit sign because we are a proud people." I have no doubt that some people at the pool could not understand why we kept her there. I can't worry about that. We'd make the same choice again.

If you haven't seen this before, it's worth the read. If you have, enjoy it again. It speaks to me every time I read it.

Holland Schmolland
by Laura Krueger Crawford

If you have a special needs child, which I do, and if you troll the Internet for information, which I have done, you will come across a certain inspirational analogy. It goes like this:

Imagine that you are planning a trip to Italy. You read all the latest travel books, you consult with friends about what to pack, and you develop an elaborate itinerary for your glorious trip. The day arrives.

You board the plane and settle in with your in-flight magazine, dreaming of trattorias, gondola rides, and gelato. However when the plane lands you discover, much to your surprise, you are not in Italy -- you are in Holland. You are greatly dismayed at this abrupt and unexpected change in plans.

You rant and rave to the travel agency, but it does no good. You are stuck. After awhile, you tire of fighting and begin to look at what Holland has to offer. You notice the beautiful tulips, the kindly people in the wooden shoes, the french fries with mayonnaise, and you think, "This isn't exactly what I had planned, but it's not so bad. It's just different."

Having a child with special needs is supposed to be like this -- not any worse than having a typical child -- just different.

When I read this my son was almost 3, completely non-verbal and was hitting me over 100 times a day. While I appreciated the intention of the story, I couldn't help but think, "Are they kidding? We're not in some peaceful country dotted with windmills. We are in a country under siege -- dodging bombs, boarding overloaded helicopters, bribing officials -- all the while thinking, "What happened to our beautiful life?"

That was five years ago.

My son is now 8 and though we have come to accept that he will always have autism, we no longer feel like citizens of a battle-torn nation. With the help of countless dedicated therapists and teachers, biological interventions, and an enormously supportive family, my son has become a fun-loving, affectionate boy with many endearing qualities and skills. In the process we've created . . . well . . . our own country, with its own unique traditions and customs.

It's not a war zone, but it's still not Holland. Let's call it Schmolland. In Schmolland, it's perfectly customary to lick walls, rub cold pieces of metal across your mouth and line up all your toys end-to-end. You can show affection by giving a "pointy chin." A "pointy chin" is when you act like you are going to hug someone and just when you are really close, you jam your chin into the other person's shoulder. For the person giving the "pointy chin" this feels really good, for the receiver, not so much -- but you get used to it.

For citizens of Schmolland, it is quite normal to repeat lines from videos to express emotion. If you are sad, you can look downcast and say, "Oh, Pongo." When mad or anxious, you might shout, "Snow can't stop me!" or "Duchess, kittens, come on!" Sometimes, "And now our feature presentation" says it all.

In Schmolland, there's not a lot to do, so our citizens find amusement wherever they can. Bouncing on the couch for hours, methodically pulling feathers out of down pillows, and laughing hysterically in bed at 4:00 a.m. are all traditional Schmutch pastimes.

The hard part of living in our country is dealing with people from other countries. We try to assimilate ourselves and mimic their customs, but we aren't always successful. It's perfectly understandable that an 8 year-old from Schmolland would steal a train from a toddler at the Thomas the Tank Engine Train Table at Barnes and Noble. But this is clearly not understandable or acceptable in other countries, and so we must drag our 8 year-old out of the store kicking and screaming, all the customers looking on with stark, pitying stares. But we ignore these looks and focus on the exit sign because we are a proud people.

Where we live it is not surprising when an 8 year-old boy reaches for the fleshy part of a woman's upper torso and says, "Do we touch boodoo?" We simply say, "No, we do not touch boodoo," and go on about our business. It's a bit more startling in other countries, however, and can cause all sorts of cross-cultural misunderstandings.

And, though most foreigners can get a drop of water on their pants and still carry on, this is intolerable to certain citizens in Schmolland, who insist that the pants must come off no matter where they are and regardless of whether another pair of pants is present.

Other families who have special needs children are familiar and comforting to us, yet are still separate entities. Together we make up a federation of countries, kind of like Scandinavia. Like a person from Denmark talking to a person from Norway (or in our case, someone from Schmenmark talking to someone from Schmorway), we share enough similarities in our language and customs to understand each other, but conversations inevitably highlight the diversity of our traditions. "My child eats paper. Yesterday he ate a whole video box." "My daughter only eats four foods, all of them white." "We finally had to lock up the VCR because my child was obsessed with the rewind button." "My son wants to blow on everyone."

There is one thing we all agree on. We are a growing population. Ten years ago, 1 in 10,000 children had autism. Today the rate is approximately 1 in 250 (sic). Something is dreadfully wrong. Though the causes of the increase are still being hotly debated, a number of parents and professionals believe genetic predisposition has collided with too many environmental insults -- toxins, chemicals, antibiotics, vaccines -- to create immunological chaos in the nervous system of developing children. One medical journalist speculated these children are the proverbial "canary in the coal mine", here to alert us to the growing dangers in our environment.

While this is certainly not a view shared by all in the autism community, it feels true to me.

I hope that researchers discover the magic bullet we all so desperately crave. And I will never stop investigating new treatments and therapies that might help my son. But more and more my priorities are shifting from what "could be" to "what is." I look around this country my family has created, with all its unique customs, and it feels like home. For us, any time spent "nation building" is time well spent.

Gone baptizin', part 2

The christening itself went far more smoothly than getting there. Each of the five babies had a small crowd of well-wishers, most of whom were trying to stick camera lenses in all the available space in front of the baptismal font, which means there were few, if any, who had any time left over to notice any shenanigans. We were hoping to steer Leah toward some preferred books, which lasted until I left my purse unattended and she went after the iPhone. Mike was able to crank down the volume before she treated the congregation to her selection of favorite You Tube videos, which include clips from Phineas and Ferb and Guinness commercials.

Final moments of original sin. Leah consented to pose for pictures, but was less concerned about whether she was looking at the camera.


The star of the show looks like he agrees with Leah about picture-taking. Maddie, however, could probably go on for a few hundred more frames. It's probably just as well that she managed to find her way into so many shots, since she has already warned us that she will not be seen in a dress again for a very long time.


My turn for some baby shots. By then, the pacifier was necessary to maintain equilibrium.

Maddie could hardly wait to do a feeding. She lasted about half an ounce and said, "I'm done."


Lauren and Maddie have found that being older cousins agrees with them. We'll see what happens in Duck, NC, next month, when they spend a week with three baby boys.

If we could make this up, we'd be bestselling authors

It's christening day in the Hamilton household -- Mike and I will be
rejecting Satan on behalf of our newest nephew this afternoon. Maddie
has resigned herself to the parental dictate that she will wear a
dress for the occasion. All three girls have purchased appropriate
shoes following another parental pronouncement that Leah will not be
attending said solemn occasion in her blue Crocs. We are already
bracing ourselves for raised eyebrows in the congregation; we see no
point in piling it on with questionable fashion sense.

Everyone was freshly scrubbed, allergy-friendly rations were packed,
and lectures were delivered about appropriate church behavior. We were
on schedule until Leah's dress went AWOL. The dress she had tried on a
couple of hours before. The dress we'd made her take off and put aside
to avoid potential spills. Gone.

Searching three floors of house ensued, and pretty soon it became Man
vs. House; even in our cluttered abode, it was hard to imagine a dress
vanishing into thin air. When we ran into Leah on our search, she
offered a vague 'over there' any time we asked. A substitute dress was
found, and we were prepared to puzzle over the dress' whereabouts on
the ride to Virginia, until one of us said to the other, 'You have the
camera, right?'

Um, no. Neither of us had it. The brand new one that replaced the one
that mysteriously vanished at Hershey Park, and was observed in its
box that morning. The kids were buckled in the van, substitute dress
and all, waiting for the adults to get themselves together, in a rare
role reversal.

Inside, f-bombs were dropping like an air raid over London. Threats
were made to empty most of the house into the first portable dumpster
that could be parked in the driveway. But we knew we were going down
in defeat.

As I yanked open the van door, Lauren and Maddie were treated to me
muttering about losing the brand-new camera. Lauren apparently found
this a very strange question. She looked at me oddly when she said,
very matter-of-factly, "Leah packed it in her backpack."

I was still upstairs mulling appropriate godmother clothing when the
packing took place. It seemed plausible.

"Show me," I said.

Of course, when I opened the backpack, I had to remove Leah's original
dress, still on its hanger, to find the camera, which was also there.
Un seven years of life with autism, I've gotten much better at getting
into Leah's head, but in those minutes spent in the house, there was
still a place I didn't manage to go.

There was nothing else for it. We praised her for remembering to pack
the camera. We even made it to the church on time.

Now if we could only teach Maddie how to pronounce 'baptism.'

Fire away, Auntie Heather

Maddie usually comes up with the fugtastic outfits, but Lauren trotted this out the other day.




Um, no. And since Maddie never met a camera she didn't like, she tried to hog the close-up.

The more things change, the more they stay the same

It's Lauren's turn to sport the Jack-O-Lantern look. She's lost both of her front teeth in the last couple of weeks:

Which also means she is returning to her roots as Fang, the Vampire Baby:

Another reason athletes need an education

I see quite a few preteen boys in my current line of work. By far one of the most popular reasons they think they don't need school is that they're going to be professional skateboarders. Or football players. Or basketball players. You get the idea.

In the time-honored social work tradition of starting where the client is, I play along and point out that they might find certain math skills useful when they sign those big contracts. They need to be able to count all those zeros, know when their agents are robbing them blind, etc. Sometimes it makes them think, but mostly they look at me like I've arrived from another planet.

Today I found another argument for why athletic prowess should not get in the way of an education. If you're old and broke, you may have to endorse products like this:



Too bad I can't use this video as a deterrent. Leaving aside the fact that Anne Arundel County schools would undoubtedly not be amused by the body part references, the kids would probably think it was cool. So my online friends will have to fill in for my students. Stay in school, kids.

Out of the (size TBD) mouths of babes

After some poking and prodding and application of sealants at the
dentist's office, Maddie told me, "Mommy, the dentist said I have a
small mouth. That's not right. I have a big one."

No argument there, babe.

Sent from my iPhone

The children are our future

Maddie made an annoucement this weekend:

Maddie: I'm not going to have babies when I grow up.

Me: You're not going to have babies?

Maddie: Nah. Too much work.

She reiterated this again when she overheard me recount this to Mike, looking at both of us and saying, "Seriously. Too much work."

If anyone has any advance strategies for getting this child's posterior off my couch in about 15 years, please feel free to comment.

TACA Family and Friends 2010

We will be participating in TACA's annual Family and Friends campaign again this year. Our firstgiving page can be found here.

We have many family and friends who have supported us since Leah's diagnosis. Regardless of whether you are able to donate to TACA this year, we thank you for being in Leah's corner.

Time to start locking the doors

My post-snow shoveling shower was interrupted when Leah marched into the bathroom and announced, "You're still dirty, Mommy. Remember to wash behind your ears."

When does school start again?

A blast from the past: Baby's first Diet Coke

Much excitement in our house over the impending arrival of a new cousin. Nicholas William O'Sullivan debuted at 6lbs, 3oz this afternoon, so of course we had babies on the brain today. I found this classic clip of 12-month-old Maddie insisting on a share of her grandfather's Diet Coke. Logic never did trouble Maddie too much.

Good for a giggle

I'm not always one for forwarding jokes, but this one amused me. I have friends and even family who either come from, live in, or have deep affection for the countries listed here, so I'm either delivering some good laughs or about to be 'unfriended' by some Facebook comrades.

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940, when tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to a "Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

The Scots raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's get the Bastards." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the frontline in the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability.

It's not only the French who are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout loudly and excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Americans meanwhile are carrying out pre-emptive strikes on all of their allies, just in case.

New Zealand has also raised its security levels – from "baaa" to "BAAAA!" Due to continuing defence cutbacks (the air force being a squadron of spotty teenagers flying paper airplanes and the navy some toy boats in the Prime Minister's bath), New Zealand only has one more level of escalation, which is "****, I hope Australia will come and rescue us."

Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be right, mate". Three more escalation levels remain, "Crikey!,” "I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend," and "The barbie is cancelled." So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.

Arts and crafts (and little scraps of paper under the dining room table all the time)

The second half of 2009 was all about Phineas and Ferb. I freely admit I have no problem with this obsession. It's completely appropriate for first and third graders, and I don't have to worry about Leah singing about beer during school hours (The Simpsons) or saying "Hello, stupid" (any number of Charlie Brown specials). It's also pretty subversive. I've been known to laugh out loud when Agent P and Dr. Doofenschmirtz fight each other using infomercial products, and if I hear the song "S.I.M.P (Squirrels In My Pants)," the kids have to tolerate me singing along. Ever the photographer, if Leah manages to finagle a turn with the camera, she pauses a Phineas and Ferb episode and takes a picture of the TV screen:


Lauren, meanwhile, has been showing quite a flair for arts and crafts, and decided to do her own homage to the show. One afternoon, she made paper Fireside Girl hats and sashes (complete with crazy patches like the ones Isabella earns on the show) for herself, Maddie, and their friend Emma. She also made cutouts of Phineas, Ferb, and Perry:



Obviously, I think they're pretty cool, but I'm her mother. However, the fact that Leah kept trying to steal them was a pretty strong endorsement.

But talent like this does not develop in a vacuum. It takes practice and dedication. Lauren began her cutout career much closer to home, by making a cutout of Maddie as a toddler:

As you can see, she approached this project with the usual reverence we Hamiltons show our loved ones:

She communicates quite effectively when she wants to

I think most of us begin our relationships with our iPhones resolving that our children will not be allowed to touch them, like, ever. In our house, that lasted until I was out in public somewhere and needed to quell a rising tide of impatience. Sound familiar? Unfortunately, that was about all that was needed for Leah to fall in love with my iPhone. Now I'm constantly watching for stealthy (and not-so-stealthy) attempts to steal it.

Sometimes, like the other day, she's more direct. She couldn't find it anywhere (I've learned to secure it in a pocket whenever possible), so she resorted to the direct approach.

Leah: Mommy, do you want to share your iPhone with me?

Me: No, not really.

Leah: Yes, really.

I can almost envision a scenario in which she gets her own %$*& iPhone just because I'm sick of calling mine all the time to figure out where she's left it. Almost. The inappropriate factor aside (she's not a Hilton or a Jolie-Pitt or a kid named after a fruit), she would undoubtedly figure out how to call our relatives in New Zealand, and guess who would be left holding the bill?