"I was born a poor black child."

One of the great things about having a kiddo this age is that there seems to be a new phase of some sort about every three days. I can't possibly document them all, but once in a while I'll give you a glimpse into our odd world.

For the last few days, Rory has become a collector. She can't go anywhere without at least one object in each hand from the location she's leaving. If we are in the living room and are going to walk to her bedroom, she must look around and decide one item, then two, and possibly three if she can handle it that she absolutely cannot survive the trip without.

If you've ever seen the old Steve Martin movie "The Jerk", it's the equivalent of Navin Johnson saying, "I don't need anything but this ashtray. Just this astray. This ashtray and this thermos are all I'll ever need. And this chair."

We leave the living room to go take a bath and she's carrying a book, two legos stuck together, and dragging a blanket. Then to leave the bathroom to go to bed, she has to take a ducky from the tub, her toothbrush, and Abby (her doll). They say that people who have collections of things are more likely to be psychopaths and serial killers.

We are slightly concerned.