After Jude had finished playing outside, he came into the house and found me in the laundry room, where he said to me, "mommy, this flower for you." It was the first flower he picked for me and gave to me just because he wanted to, not because he saw his sisters or dad doing it. I couldn't hug him long enough. A surprisingly good end to a weekend of high fevers, vomiting, and sleepless nights.

And Jude, oh he's growing up so quickly. He has become a chatterbox, just like his oldest sister. He just doesn't stop talking, and he talks about everything.

Jude: Mommy, that a lamp?

Me: Yes, Jude, that's a lamp.

Jude: It burns?

Me: Yes, it could burn you.

Jude: The lamp on, mommy?

Me: Look at the lamp Jude. Is it on?

Jude: Yes.

Me: No, Jude, the lamp is not on.

Jude: You want build trains with me?

Me: How about tomorrow?

Jude: Okay. I go school?

Me: No, sweetie. You're a little too young to go to school.

Jude: I ha backpack. I go school.

Me: When you're older.

Jude: Okay. I walk Gampa's dog? See Gampa?

Me: Soon, Jude.

Jude: Okay. I wuv you, mommy.

This reminds me of a funny interaction I recently had with Ella. She was talking incessantly and I just couldn't take it anymore, so I told her, "Ella, you have so many good stories. You like to tell them and I like to hear them, but sometimes you just need to stop talking. Sometimes it seems like you never stop talking." She replied, "you're right, mom. I guess I got that from you. It's like how you always say the same thing over and over again." Yes, Ella, it's kind of like that. In fact, I seem to recall my own parents telling me "Cathleen, you beat a dead horse to death." Well, they were right. I can take it. Sometimes I really don't know when to stop.