Yesterday when I got home from work I took my watch and rings off and laid them on the dresser in the master bedroom.

As I was feeding Kallan in the living room, I heard some clinking and kerplinking sounds as if Finley were in the master bedroom tossing my rings against the hard floors, picking them up, and tossing them again.  Surely not.

My mistake in the heat of the moment?  I had hope.  I thought certainly she could not possibly be entertained by this for more than a couple of minutes and that she might have the wherewithal to place the jewelry-turned-toy back on the dresser when she was finished with it.  What's more, I was nursing the young 'un.  I had no desire to curtail that in order to avert potential trouble a room or two away.

Oops.

One of Finley's first words was "Mama."  That's me!  She loves me!  Yes, yes, yes! 

Okayyyyyy, not so fast.  She was using that word to describe both Angela and me.  One of many interesting notes in a family like ours.

I do remember the day she began to assign us separate identities.  It was after reading Mommy, Mama, and Me by Leslea Newman.