Evie is walking now. Actually, charging around the house at full speed, getting into all kinds of devilment even whilst looking like a cherub, is what she's doing.



And, now that she has more power than ever to get into things, she is sometimes (quite frequently, actually) a naughty little girl--and when she is being naughty, she clearly knows what she is doing. But she's just so darn cute! Heaven help us. The older she gets, the more fully her cheerfully evil nature asserts itself.

She looks straight into my eyes and grins merrily at me while reaching directly for the ink pen (or book with paper pages, or thumbtack, or other forbidden item) that I had just told her not to touch.

I tell her to say please when she wants a drink (a skill I thought we had down) and instead she screams, turns her back on me, and marches away rather than submit herself to my will.

She climbs up on the couch, snuggles with her sister, gives a toothy grin, and then bites her on the arm.



And then, yesterday, I found her sitting on the floor playing with my cell phone--another item she knows she's not supposed to play with--and discovered that she had dialed the following number: 666-6666.

Oh dear.

Was she phoning home?

I think perhaps we ought to be scared.