Her sly smile spoke volumes and the evidence was smeared over her plump toddler fingers.  She stood before me, just as my other two children did years ago, covered head to tow in diaper cream.

"Who did this to you?"  I tried to keep a straight face.

"Lola."

"No, I didn't!!! She's a liar.  Fifi, you are a liar!"  Lola screamed from the opposite end of the house.

"I not a liar. I a girl."

Dressed to impress in a missmatched ensemble of dress-up clothes she desired no help from me and was determined to squeeze her feet into a pair of plastic slippers.

"Where are you going today looking fancy?  You are so adorable!"

"I not so adorable.  I a girl."

The "terrible-twos" are tragically mislabeled.  The real trouble begins when in a couple of months around the age of three, she will have more knowledge and this gives birth to the stage of discontent.  Oh you know, otherwise known as the terrible (horrible, no good, very bad) threes where knowledge triumphs peace.  It's the developmental stage where I walk around with my hands over my ears singing la-la-la-I-can't-hear-you trying to remember that discontent is a crucial step towards progress.  Right?

"You are a crybaby."

"No I not. I a girl."  Soon will be replaced by, "Mommmmmmmy.  Lola called me a crybaby and I'm not a crybaby, she is.  Sop calling me that.  Mommmmmmy tell her I'm not a crybaby.  You are the crybaby, Lola.  A poopy head crybaby. Whatever you say sticks to you like glue. Waaaaaaaaa..... I not a crybaby."