"Mommy, the baby called us kids. And kids are baby goats," Jory informed me. Then he turned to his baby sister and said, "You're a goat."
"Jory," I warned, as he asked for the millionth time when he could open his present.
"Wait til after dinner," the baby chimed in.
"Baby, I do not need your help," I reminded her as her new favorite pasttime seems to be reprimanding her siblings and acting as a co-parent.
"Wait til after dinner," she repeated.
"Baby."
She smiled.
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