The girls are in love with their birth stories. When we're riding in PennyVann, all they want to hear about is when they were in mommy's tummy, how tiny they were, how big they grew, how much they kicked, the day they were born, how tiny they were then, how much milk they drank, how they got their names.
When Daddy's along for the ride, the stories get silly. This weekend, he told the story of when their was a kitty baby in Mommy's tummy, then two babies, then One Hundred Babies.
Since Dixie is adopted, she especially loves it, as she gets to make up all the details and I cannot contradict them, because, "Mommy, you weren't there."
Kids love nothing more than knowing something grown-ups do not. And Dixie somehow remembers every single detail of her gestation.
Yesterday, it became Dixie's turn to tell the story again. She even included the part where, "Mommy E----- accidentally swallowed a rock and when I was kicking my little baby feet in her tummy, I stubbed my toe!"