Something in the milk.

Some days I find myself wondering what in the world they put in Teagan's milk at school.

The days they give her straight milk she is a sweet, chat us up, sing "Wheels on the Bus" and "Jesus Loves Me" kinda girl.

The days when her legs flail, her head spins and she could break windows with the octaves her screams reach I wonder what in the world they laced her milk with.

Then I remember.  She's two. Full. Blown. Two. And I love her.