Independence Day

Like Liz, I think I'm slowly becoming dispensable to my oldest child (although, for the record, Molly doesn't have Ethan's helpful streak. Or, I should say, she's nudge nudge wink wink, big-air-quote "helpful"). She likes to announce to me what we're doing for the day (9 times out of 10 we're most definitely not doing it), likes to get her shoes and hat on by herself (for the record, it was 73 degrees today, not really a hat day... didn't matter), gets her babies up and fed and down for a nap (these naps must be taken in Jack's room and seem to last an awfully long time), must "pick up" her Little People for the night by parking them (after several nights of this I did, finally, pick them up after she went to bed. They seem innocuous enough but those buggers always end up underfoot somehow), lets me know that she can paint her own toenails (maaa-ma, I'm painting my naa-ils. My reaction? What? Nooooo), and is Queen Independent on the playground.

It's bittersweet (and sometimes maddening, sometimes hilarious), these steps towards independence. Thankfully, given that her mitts are still heat seeking mischief missiles, I have a bit more time of eagle-eyeing her before she's completely off on her own.