Our oldest boy has become quite the independent. While he'll still follow his sister to the moon and back, he loves to assert his ability to take care of himself where Mom and Dad are concerned. He has recently learned to crawl into and out of his own car seat (that's right, hiking his tiny self up into our ginormous Expedition). His newest catch-phrase is, "I do it!"
If you offer to help, "I do it!"
If you try to give him a boost, "I do it!"
When we want him to eat and he's refusing, we can threaten spankings and he'll straighten up a little, but still dilly-dally. We can offer cupcakes and he dawdles. But I warn him, "Mommy will do it!" and start lifting his fork to his mouth and I earn an adamant, "I do it!" as he pulls his own utensil toward him.
That's our boy.
Meanwhile, Micaiah has found a new way of asserting her own bossy independence by controlling our choices in her pretend games. While offering her Daddy invisible stickers, she gave him two choices, "The lion sticker or the rainbow sticker?"
"Uh, the lion sticker."
"No, the lion sticker is too scary. We'll just put that over here. You can have the rainbow sticker."
Likewise, she had, a couple of days earlier, offered me an invisible cupcake, "What kind do you want?"
"Can I have a chocolate cupcake?"
"Um, no, the chocolate ones are for me and Emmett. Here, you can have the sprinkle cupcake."
Really, child? You can't just make an extra pretend chocolate cupcake? I'm pretty sure she enjoys the feeling of saying "No" to our desires every once in awhile in the same way we shoot her down at least once a day.
Way to stick it to the man, little girl.
368. A strawberry slush after the kids are in bed.
369. Cheesecake squares waiting for me in the freezer.
370. A freshly cleaned baby.
371. Problem resolution.
372. A tiny one resting next to me, squirming happily, as I try to grab a little extra shut-eye in the morning.
373. Sweet smiles from someone just learning how.
My Life: My Favorite Stuff
A Sonic run for half-price slushes, window down on a clear night, wind in my freshly cut (by myself!) hair, Grits streaming from the speakers while I rock my hip-hop moves, arms straight on the wheel, elbows locked, shoulders popping. This is the stuff.