I keep trying to capture Polly and Meg together in a photo, because I'm dying to write a conversation between them in which Polly assures Meg that she looks JUST LIKE Hannah Montana, and so on and so forth. But I keep getting shots like this.
And the conversation goes like this:
Polly: Mom! Meg stole my nylabone, AGAIN!
Jean: Polly, you know perfectly well the nylabone belongs to everyone.
Polly: But it's worn down to a tiny nub. It's just my size now.
Jean: Meg, would you please share the nylabone with Polly?
Meg: Who was that at the front door? Was that the UPS man, or was that Miley Cyrus?
Polly: It was Miley! I swear, it was Miley. You'd better go look, right now. I'll take care of the nylabone while you go check, OK?
Meg: Naw, it was the UPS guy, and it wasn't my Victoria's Secret order, either.
Polly (stamping her tiny feet): Hmmph!