If You Need Help Picking Accessories, I Know a Girl

But Why?

Mila is, without a doubt, exceeding expectations when it comes to communicating. She's using words and sentences in ways I wouldn't expect. There are two things worth saying about the whole thing:

1. She's doing it because of Alexis. Alexis spends hours every day teaching Mila new words. When Alexis is talking to Mila, she will pause to ask Mila to repeat words and phrases. "We went to the Pirates game today. Mila, say 'Pirates,'" for example.

No adult on the planet has as much patience for teaching vocabulary as Alexis does.

2. It doesn't matter. I can tell you with certainty that Mila isn't dumb, but being ahead with her words doesn't mean anything in the long run. She may end up President of the United States one day. She may also end up wanting to be a stay at home pet rock mom. Either way, her place in adult life won't be because she figured out how to say, "Help me put shoes on?" at 24 months of age.

That said, the fact that she now says, "No, thank you" when she doesn't want something will absolutely lead her to good things in life. The way she says it is so tiny and cute that I am going to end up buying her a pony any day now. Also, manners. I'm a sucker for good manners.

Long of the short, Mila is doing well with the talky talky and it's Alexis' fault.

All Alexis' fault.

ALL ALEXIS' FAULT.

It is absolutely 100% Alexis' fault that Mila has already started in with the "Why?" phase.

"Mila, sit down."

"Why?"

"Mila, eat your dinner."

"Why?"

"Mila, put your pants back on."

"Why?"

"Mila, put the matches back in your pocket."

"Why?"

The Why? phase is absolutely a necessary evil in childhood, but WHY DID IT HAVE TO START SO EARLY? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?

When She's Right, She's Right

I think we all have lazy parenting phrases we use to shut down conversations. "Because I said so," for example. If we don't all use them once in a while, don't tell me. I want to think I'm an average-achiever in this game, not an over-achiever.

My choice of lazy parenting phrases is, "Your life is hard." It works in a lot of situations. When a certain kid is complaining that she doesn't want to go to camp, when she whines about having to practice for band, any time she thinks she shouldn't have to do chores ... it's a really great all-purpose phrase. It works well because that particular kid wants to argue with me in moments like that, but if she argues with me, she's saying her life isn't hard. Ergo, what I'm asking isn't asking much.

She's forced to either agree with me as she does the thing she doesn't want to do or stop talking while she does the thing she doesn't want to do. Either way, I win.

That little phrase works well with the other kid, too. When she has thrown herself to the ground because I gave her strawberries instead of blueberries, saying "Your life is hard" makes me laugh. It's a good reminder that to her life is hard at that moment, but eventually she will gain some perspective. She won't always throw a fit when I won't let her wear shoes that are three sizes too small, she will eventually figure out that feeding the dogs her food will always get her in trouble, and all the little injustices in toddler life will fade to the past.

All of that is to say, it makes sense that the conversation I'm about to describe went the way it did.

Every night, weather permitting, Mila and I go for a walk around the neighborhood. It's a walk intended to help her figure out that it's time to go to bed because homegirl is having trouble winding down lately. She gets to look for dogs, point out flowers, and cruise down the road in her little car until it's time for her to go to bed.

She really super likes the walks.

The only problem is that the whole "sit in her little car" thing nearly always turns into "I want to walk."

That's a lie, by the way. When Mila says she wants to walk, what she means to say is that she wants to run in traffic, throw rocks through windows, or set things on fire. She doesn't walk nicely on the sidewalk. EVER.

Tonight Mila hit the wall earlier than usual. We weren't even close to being back at our house when she started squawking about how terrible it was that I wouldn't let her walk.

"I walk!" she said.

"You have to wait until we get to the dog," I replied. The dog is a statue of a dog that is a few houses down from ours. Mila knows where it is and what it is and all of that. I can generally prevent her from committing a felony if she walks from there to our house.

"NO. I WALK!" she replied.

"You can wait," I answered.

"LIFE IS HARD!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She's not wrong.