Elle has a raspy little voice. She sounds a lot like Janis Joplin and I don't even let her drink SoCo yet...my cousin's daughter makes all these really cute cooing noises. Elle says, heyyyy, yeah, daahhhahhh, nahhhhh, raoahhrhharha, grrrrrr, hiiiiiihhhh. You get the point. All raspy, all tough. This morning when I had to change her diaper after the early feeding she was like, "Come on come on come on and take it!" I hurried up out of fear and respect for the artist.
Which brings me to my next point. Maybe it is the world we live in, the neighborhood I live in or my former profession but people seem to like to think about what kind of fancy car Elle is going to drive in 17 years (if Mr. Bishop ever lets her out of the house). A couple people alluded to new technologies for keys and safety and general luxury features. About 4 minutes into the first conversation about what kind of fancy sporty thing she would be driving, I pulled out two sets of car keys from my pocket and said..."I can tell you to the trim level what she will be driving." My first car was eight years older than I was...her first car will be a newer model than that but will still leave her begging for a Mercedes Benz.
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