She used to sit and smile so complacently.
Now she flails around wildly. Not unhappily, mind, but in a crazed, I'm-a-party-girl sort of way.
No, not Nicole. Well, not right this minute anyway.
It seems our cute little Type B has begun to learn the ways of her environment and appears to be taking pages from the First Letter of Gamble to the Party-On-ians (no, not the party-onions; they're way too small).
She's nuts; she's wild; she's boogie fever on crack. Nicole said that she doesn't want to cuddle anymore in the morning, and will only settle down if Nicole lets her lay on our bed without touching her. Not only do I know how she feels, I think I'll look a bit askance at her the next time she suggests that it's only Gamble and I that are cut from the same cloth.
All this energy just in time for Nicole to stay home with them full time. This has Reality TV written all over it.
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