2.5 is proving to be a challenging age. Maybe that is a universal fact or maybe its the unique combination of three at once. December has brought with it: 106 degree fevers, vomit at a christmas party, nap boycotts, later bedtimes, night terrors, hitting, and now pink-eye (ewww). On a positive note (because I swear I am trying desperately to be positive), Lucy knows all her letters and insisted on "reading" Matt's "tall" Derrida text in bed. Alex has decent rhythm when he drums and dances along to jingle bells, and  Eva gives the best hugs ever and asks questions (both reasonable and ridiculous) in the cutest voices. "Mommy, can you tuck me in." "Mommy can you click me (in her carseat)."