This morning as I was finally cleaning up the aftermath of hurricane Turney downstairs I heard the crashing of books being pulled off their shelves upstairs.
"Hannah," I said in my most stern voice, "What are you doing up there."
"Hannah there better not be a mess when I come upstairs."
I walked to the top of the stairs and Hannah was waiting for me.
"Oh no Mommy," she started, looking as innocent as can be, "mess! Give me hug now."
I of course couldn't resist her cry for love and affection, even when caught in a naughty moment. I gave her the hug and asked:
"Hmmm, and who made that mess?
"Daddy made mess. Daddy did it."
"Daddy is at work Hannah, I know Daddy didn't make this mess."
"Baby did it."
"Baby Paige did it. Baby Paige mess."
"Hannah baby Paige was with me in my tummy downstairs. Baby Paige didn't make this mess."
After thinking about it for a minute I asked if she made the mess.
"Hannah made mess Mommy...I wuv you Mommy."
I think she is going to enjoy having someone to blame things on.