My daughter is a weirdo (and other Muppets as assigned)

A lot of development has happened in the two months since I last wrote here. LG has gone from one-word declarations to two-, three-, and four-word statements and sort-of questions. Individual words have become more complex, with two-syllable words very common, and the occasional three-syllable word popping up without warning. She can distinguish and name about 15 capital letters of the alphabet. (I'm not entirely certain how this happened. It could be her alphabet stickers, or working with her Grammy.)

Her memory of past events continues to surprise me; without any prompting, she'll walk up to you and say, "Chewie bone!" referring to friends' dog that we haven't seen in five weeks and the fact that they played with a Nylabone together. (Yes, my daughter played with a slimy Nylabone. She's gnawed on worse.)

Not pictured: Nylabone

But the biggest change in the last few weeks is that LG has gotten weird.

Exhibit A: At the aforementioned visit with Chewie & Co. (in Connecticut), we went out for dinner to a nice tapas restaurant in New Haven. Our three-hour car ride up the previous evening was horrible with a capital H, so it was with some trepidation that we brought LG to a nice dining establishment. She'd done well in restaurants before, but she had been low on sleep for the previous 24 hours. We were nervous.

Turns out, everything was fine, and she ate very well. (Sidebar: She loved chorizo and dates. She hated razor clams.) But the whole experience took a turn for the strange when she turned her gaze to a fixed point on the ceiling, waved as if to a good friend, and said "Hi!" This continued for some time. She'd eat for a few minutes, then tip back to look at the same area of the ceiling, wave, say hi, and occasionally engage the invisible ceiling person in more meaningful discussion (at least, it sounded meaningful. It was certainly emphatic.). I can't put my finger on why, exactly, but as the meal wore on, this behavior started to feel really creepy. Maybe it was the fact that there weren't many people in the restaurant. Maybe it was because it was dimly lit. Maybe it was because her exclamations were increasingly fervent, as if she was warning us about something.

Maybe this says more about me than it does my daughter.

Exhibit B: As noted, LG still isn't wild about the car. Most short trips are okay, but if an outing will involve strapping her into the car seat more than twice, you know you're gearing up for a fight.

Which is why it's so strange that this happens any time the car seat is in the house:

LG to self: I hate this seat SO much.

Every time. Seriously, child, what is your deal?

Exhibit C:

I admit it. This isn't that weird. I just like the picture.

Exhibit D: We're out to breakfast the other day (yes, another story about going out to eat). The Station House is a nice little diner with a good menu that doesn't get terribly crowded on weekend mornings. The flipside of no crowds is that there's just one server.

The food was taking its sweet time getting to our table, so we busied ourselves pointing at the country craft decor, and asking LG if she could identify the various animals featured. Yes, that's a duck. What sound does it make... yadda yadda yadda. This progressed until we got to pig.

Hollie: "What sound does a piggy make, sweetie?"
LG: "Hiiii-ya! Aahhhhhh!"

Hollie: Yes, that's what sound Miss Piggy makes. Good job.

See? Total weirdo. I love it.