On the other hand, please is simply not a word that Helena recognises as relevant to her needs. She prefers to communicate those in the impertative.
"Read!" she'll say, waving a book in the air and then whack you with it if you have failed to respond. "There!" she'll thunder, pointing with her teeny finger, or "That!". Or thrust a little foot towards you with a crisp "Shoo!" or "Boo!" while proferring the desired footwear (shoes and boots, respectively).
It's like raising a mini Queen Victoria, albeit one who IS amused (all the time) and manages discontent in her subjects by being devilishly adorable and continuosly cackling her face off.
She's an uncontainable child in both cheerfulness and enthusiasm. Her natural exuberance is as boundless as it is infectious and makes it hard to be angry with her even when she's performing her daily rota of Acts of Naughtiness.
Running away from a nappy change, while howling with mirth? Tick. Pushing her brother off the Wii Balance board, just to irritate him? Tick. Using the cat as a body pillow? Pulling all the things out of her chest of drawers one by one, and trying to fit as many items as possible onto her body and discarding the rest, piece by piece, like a trail of crumbs in a fairy tale? Yowling with excitement while she climbs into my just-cleaned bath with muddy boots on? Tick, tick and tick.
At almost two, she still has very few words but what she has she prefers to use with authority. She's also down with the patriarchy because while she addresses her father, her brother and the two cats by name and title (e.g. cats are Joooooo! and Meeeee!* and Cah-tuh!, Z is always "Da-ddeee!" at maximum volume possible) she normally doesn't acknowledge me or her nanny at all except to treat us as competent and likeable handmaidens. She likes us well enough, and from time to time loyal service is rewarded with some face caressing or sweet pats on the back.
Helena also enjoys standing on top of chairs and wielding accessories for greater impact.