And so we achieve closure.

Eleanor loves being scared, but not too scared. You grab her and go ROWR and she laughs, but you're my mom and you jump out at her in a dark hallway and she cries. It's basically this:

My sister and I were talking about that the other day, and about how we hope we never forget that memory and that we tell it at her wedding.

That's what had happened with the octopus (you remember him), who has been faithfully and effectively guarding the window from those who would peel off its covering. I can't remember if I mentioned this, but every time I would sneeze unexpectedly or the stove buzzer would go off, she'd whirl around and glare at him like everything that startled her was his fault.

And then all of a sudden the other day she was like, Octopus.

I AM MUCH LARGER THAN YOU.

C'mere, friend, you have something in your eye.

Now they are besties and she likes to carry him around by his head-handle like he's her eight-legged suitcase.

Getting over the octopus has opened up all sorts of new avenues for Staring Out of Windows at Cars.

She's really super into this.

LOOK THERE IS ANOTHER CAR.

Also, hiding behind the curtain is the best of jokes.

Also, if you haven't seen Eleanor frantically greet and then try to kiss herself, you haven't seen from vanity.