I think we’re dealing with a serial.

I haven’t caught her in the act. I usually find shredded pieces of paper down the side of her crib mattress, under the mattress or clutched in her hands after waking from a nap.

“Chloe, did you tear this book?”

“Yes Mommy. I rip a book.”

My face becomes angry but surprised she’s smart enough to hide the evidence but not enough to deny the act.

“I say, sorry Ellie at school. I say sorry Hanna at school.”

No, you haven’t said sorry to Hanna or Ellie, they are at school.

Then she becomes defensive.

“It’s not your cation!”

What does that mean?

“It’s not your cation Mommy. I am your Mommy’s daughter.”

Gibberish.

I proceed to place only board books in her crib and she throws them at me as I exit the room.

Not unlike the three little kittens “then you shall have no pie books.”

And for the record, it is my “cation.” (whatever that is) Every cation in this house belongs to your father and me.

“You’re a jerk monkey!”

That one still gets me.