No more broken B

So today we went to the doctor's office to have Brontë's broken collar bone looked at, and after a couple of x-rays to confirm things, they took the horrible little figure-8 harness off her and cut us loose. There was much rejoicing. Tiffany and I couldn't stand the thing; I think we may have hated it more than Miss B did. It was chafing her neck no matter how we adjusted the thing, and it just made us feel bad, so we're all incredibly glad to be rid of the thing.

While we were at the doc's place, we had an amusing "Mouth of the Babe" moment. I've got an old Tommy Hilfiger polo shirt that's in nice shape, so it's a work shirt. It's got "Hilfiger" on one sleeve. Miss B, in between trying to trigger heart attacks in both of her parents at the doctor's office, slowed down long enough to read that sleeve. Whenever she sees letters, she tends to spell things out. This was no exception. "H-I-L-F-I-G-E-R," she said to us. "Shirt!" It took a few moments of laughter on Mommy and Daddy's parts before we could tell how shirt is actually spelled, but we definitely enjoyed her version.