Zelie is nearly 2 years old. This afternoon I heard her say “there’s Munson” from the kitchen door at GrassPunk Manor. She has no idea what my name is, other than “get out of the way so I can see Munson”. Despite her rapidly growing vocabulary, she normally addresses me by pointing at the corner of her mouth so that I will make cheek popping noises. When I do that she dissolves into hand-waving gurgling giggles, and I forgive her for having the fashion sense of a mad old cat lady.