So Clara was sitting at her high chair this morning for breakfast and I heard Mike repeating over and over "eateeme - eateeme - eateeme." "What the heck are you saying?" says I. He replies "E.T. me." "oh, right." says I.
Clara loves to use her pointer finger. Points at everything and nothing. So, when she's got her pointer out, we touch pointers like E.T. And, now, I guess, it's called E.T. me.
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