Mo Mo Champs

The other day, I was holding Olivia, and she started reaching for something on the kitchen counter super enthusiastically (read: crying and wailing for whatever it was).

We had made chocolate chip cookies - and then put them in tupperwear with a red lid. I didn't think she knew what was inside - but I know this girl has an eye for dessert. And a memory like a steel trap.

(Dan brought home Dunkin Donuts this weekend - and the only other time she's had them was months ago when we walked there. She took one look at the box and started jumping up and down "MMM" "YUM!" "Mmm yum!")

I set her on the counter to see if it really was those cookies she wanted - I figured we'd give her one before her bath. 

She reaches past the cookies grabs my empty champagne glass and goes "mo mo" (more more). I started laughing that all of this wailing was about champagne. She's louder "MO MO MO MO!"

So I set her down on the floor with the glass. She runs up to the fridge banging on it. At this point, I call Dan in. She's a genius.

I open the fridge for her, she grabs the bottle of champagne (not any other bottle) hands me the glass and the bottle and says "mo mo." 

I poured myself another glass and she ran back to the living room to continue playing.

Dan and I were in shock for a minute. Did our daugther just freak out over the fact that it was Friday night and my champagne class was empty? And did she just peer pressure me into drinking another?

Like - 'it's Friday, mom. You dealt with me and work all week. Refill your glass.'

She is definitely my daughter.