Peeper is two and three-quarters years old, but she is more emotionally mature than many adults I know. (Sorry, guys!)
Take, for example, the other day when I spilled something in the kitchen while Peeper was eating breakfast. I must have made some grumpy grunt, because she asked what was wrong. “I’m just frustrated,” I replied.
She slid off her booster seat and walked over to me. She wrapped her arms around my legs and planted a yogurt-covered kiss on my knee.
“It’s ok that you’re frustrated, Mommy,” she said. “Now do you feel better?”
How could I not? 
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