My Juice Glass is Getting a Workout this Week

Life is what happens while you are trying to pay the bills. You get very focused on hunting for nickels and dimes in the couch cushions, your brain gets all muddled with complicated math (custom cedar doors + eBay + Etsy = electric + car insurance + groceries, but is < mortgage), and before you know it, big things get by you.

For example, my four year-old is out there learning things that I didn’t teach her. Singing songs from story hour that I don’t know, wanting to look up the michelinoceras on the internet, and explaining that jarred baby food does not have as many “helpful antioxidants” as baby food made at home using the Baby Bullet!

She hasn’t gone anywhere….

…but it seems as though suddenly, she is worldlier.

She goes around making her own decisions. Decisions about making her own bed without being asked, and picking out books with chapters and books about Pluto. Decisions about getting a haircut. (A haircut?? REALLY? Let's think this over for a couple of days. Maybe a couple of days more. I don't know why. Because. Because...Yes I know hair grows back Wendy. I know. You are right. I do have butterflies about it. Thank you for holding my hand through your haircut.)

It is like she turned a corner, and there is now...this kid living in my house. Not a baby. Good thing I have a spare one of those. Behold! MY KID! Who, despite her suspicions regarding the dubious and anti-oxidant devoid nature of jarred baby food, decided that helping to feed the baby would be a good way to help me out. On her own. Today, she is calling him her "Little Mini-Wheat." ("much better than those disgusting pink ones. What a disappointment.")

I don't want to get to maudlin about it. Time flies. Life changes. It's a good thing.

(Read: I have already had a good cry into my juice glass of Paisano, and I'm fine now, thank you.)