They're Not Pigtails, They're Devil Horns

There are a some guarantees in life -- Michael Phelps will win a gold medal in the Olympics and I will stop for Starbucks while on a road trip. Put money on either thing because you will come out a winner. During our most recent road trip, I dragged the girls into a rest stop under the guise of feeding them dinner, but really, coffee. Because coffee.

World peace will be a real thing when someone figures out the most perfect cup of coffee. We'll all gather, sit in cozy chairs, and share a pot of that magic as we smile and sing Kumbaya.

With pizzas for the girls in one hand and Mila's chubby little fist in my other hand, I stood in line for coffee. Alexis was chatting her head off, as she always is, while we waited patiently. Well, at least two of us were waiting patiently. The other one doesn't understand that word nor does she care to understand that word because she has things to do.

Like explore a shelf filled with tumblers.

Mila looked at the tumblers, and then she looked at me. I looked back at her because seriously. Just stop. KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF, CHILD.


Mila went from visually verifying that I was watching to grabbing a tumbler in a snap. She picked it up and casually dropped it to the floor. For funsies. Of course, silly me, I thought it was plastic and that her scheme was about to be ruined but NOPE. Somebody who has never met a Mila decided to put glass tumblers on a low shelf.

And now they had one less tumbler to straighten and dust each morning. So.

As I set out to clean up the shattered glass, I scolded the Bad Idea Queen. Between my scolding and my glaring, the wrong kid found herself under a pile of guilt. Alexis started to apologize profusely, tears in her eyes, because obviously it was all her fault that her sister chose to be a jerk.

Mila, on the other hand, was oblivious to my "MILA, THAT IS NOT NICE STOP IT BAD CHOICE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

She looked me straight in the eye, smiled, and lifted her arm to sweep all of the tumblers off of the shelf.

The good news is that I've met Mila so I know that she is the Donald Trump of getting into trouble. When she does something dumb and gets caught, she denies that it's dumb and then does it bigger. She double-downs on her jerkiness so frequently that I already had a hand headed her way when she went to sweep a whole shelf of glass to its death, so it was no problem to stop her.

She laughed when I stopped her, and then she tried to sweep the shelf with her other arm.

I stopped that, too.

I may not have any idea how to teach Hurricane Mila that bad ideas should be avoided, but at least I'm developing that Neo superpower that prevents the really bad stuff from happening.




A Changing of Minds

The second she laid eyes on her old friend the ocean, Mila's eyes grew wide. Recent trips to a lake have made her a huge fan of running from the sand deep into the water and back again, so I'm sure that's what she had in mind. What she failed to notice, however, is that the ocean tends to be more alive than a lake -- the waves crashing and pull of the water as it regressed instantly harshed Mila's ocean buzz.

Whoever decided water should attack people was stupid, you see.

About three seconds after touching ocean water, Mila declared herself done with it. Which, considering we were on Day One of a two-day Ocean City vacation, was a bit of a letdown. There was kicking and screaming and whining, and then there was Mila's reaction. She wanted away from the water just as much as I wanted to stay.

I retreated and let her play in the sand for a bit, but then I made her return. As I stood letting the ocean crash into my knees, I held Mila safely above the water. I told her over and over again that the water was fun, but she disagreed. Vehemently. The smallest splash set her into an angry tirade.

Lather, rinse, repeat. I tried to convince her; she reminded me that there would be no convincing.

It was right around the eleventieth sixteenish time I stood in the ocean while holding Mila up high that something caught her eye. One of Mila's favorite older kid friends was right beside us. He was sitting in the water, waves splashing up to his shoulders. As water washed over his head and in his face and absolutely everywhere, he laughed. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed because THE OCEAN IS FUN, YOU GUYS.

Mila stared at him.

She stared hard.

When Mila stares at someone, she is absolutely judging them. I have no doubt that she is formulating all of the opinions. She's generally not kind with opinions.

Except this time. This time she judged her friend and decided he was AWESOME AND OBVIOUSLY CORRECT! She begged to be let down and instantly started enjoying the waves.


So basically Mila decided the ocean was fun only because her friend said it was fun.

I can't wait to see what kind of trouble Mila finds once peer pressure is a legit part of her life.


Some Day I'll Write Words Again. But First, This.