So, last night Chad and I fed the girls dinner.

It was all going along just fine.  We were eating all the yummy food, drinking all the delicious milk and, for the most part, avoiding too much splatter on the walls, ceiling, windows and floor.

 Toward the end of the meal Tessa looked up at her dad who was feeding her, and as plain as day said, “All done!” while giving the perfect sign for “all done”.

For a second Chad and I just stared at her.

“Did she just say ‘All done’?”  I asked him.

“I think so.”

There were a couple of spoonfuls left of her fruit and so he said, “Should I try?”

“Sure.  Test the Tessa Hypothesis.”

SMACK!  Onto the floor went the spoon and a huge glop of banana-orange medley.

I guess she was all done.  Wow.  It just gets crazier each day.