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I peek over and see that Gaia is watching me type this, and I notice that she's smiling at me and she's cuddling one of her mother's cha-cha shoes.
Since she's not sleeping, "What are you doing with those," I ask her.
"They're Mama's shoes," she says. "They're cuddly, I like to cuddle them."
"Ok. Go to sleep."
"Do you want to cuddle Mama's shoes in the big bed?"
"No thanks."
"They're nice," she giggles.

She's wearing an Orange Shirt, Pink Shoes, Blue Pants and a Purple Headband. She asks me if I would help her put on her Lailac sweatshirt.
"Are you sure you don't want your green one?"
"Why?"
"Well, if you wore you're green one, you'd pretty much have all the colors on."
"I guess I need a Green Shirt then," she says.
"Why?"
"Because then I'll have all the colors, and I'll be as pretty as I can be."
"Aww. THat's cute, But I think you're already as pretty as you can be."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"But with the green shirt, I'd be even more pretty!"

Created this in about 30 minutes in iMovie HD. Viva la Flip. Music Source

Gaia likes my work computer because it doesn't have any "poop" in it. This is because I explained to her that my desktop at home -- my Ubuntu machine -- took a poop last week and won't work anymore. She's very disappointed at the lack of Tux Paint in her life.
So, we sat down at the "Pooputer" as we're calling it now, and managed to chisel 25 minutes of tux-paint out of it before the poop kicked in and pooped the pooputer to poopington. She was pleased and the results were, as always, tuxpaintriffic.
I like my work computer because it was paid for by someone other than me. I think, in the future, I'm going to try to negotiate a private laptop into all my employment arrangements.
Sure, the world is moving away from platform/hardware based document processing/storage, but that is exactly the justification for including a laptop in my work requirements. I don't need to be tied to just the office intranet anymore. I work everywhere. Even when I'm not at work.
The fact is, when I'm away from the office, I shouldn't use the computer that has poop in it. Everybody, but especially my office IS people, should appreciate that.

This morning G. was playing with a small kit of lip gloss that someone gave her for Christmas and as I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I happened to overhear her mother and she talking.

G: "I've got pretty lip gloss."

J: "You do. I bet you think you look just like Barbie."

Gaia thinks that Barbie is about the be-all end-all of Glamor. I asked Jeni want she meant, and she told me that I couldn't possibly understand. "To a little girl," J said, "More makeup is always prettier."

If you just can't get enough pictures of my daughter and her cousins, you know there are more pics at my dad's flickr stream. You guys are still lookin' at my Dad's photo streamoccasionally, right? He's getting broody lately because his Flickr stats aren't where he'd like them to be.

I've tried selling him on the magic of tagging and meta data, but he's not buyin' it. Look, I got him to buy the "Creative Commons" concept; maybe tagging's too much to ask.

It's been a while since I pointed you guys to my Dad's Flickr Stream. This is a shot of Gaia climbing around in the back yard at the house I grew up in. When my sister was a little girl, she was climbing in a tree and fell out of it and broke the heck out of her arm. The people at the hospital kept trying to process the paperwork as a Workman's Comp claim until my Mom explained to them with that delightful pragmatic cynicism that she uses so well, "Yes. Yes. My 8-year-old daughter works for us part time as a lumberjack."

So, if you don't get enough pictures of my little girl in my Flickr stream (Kevron, I'm lookin' at you) you might also consider subscribing to my dad's, which has many more pictures of the girl, but also occasionally features pictures of home-grown fruits and vegetables in vaguely pornographic postures.