This milestone brought to you by the letter D

Milestones are important to me. How can I possibly judge the quality of work I am doing as a parent? Without them, I have no way to work myself into a frenzy because HIS kid walked 4 whole months before mine did…or SHE managed to potty train her child in one weekend…and let’s not forget THAT one over there that has a 2 year old that just finished reading every book on Oprah’s book club list….TWICE!

I’ve had to learn to let milestones roll by me in the past two years of treatment. When kids were potty-training, my 3 year old had regressed into diapers again. While kids were heading off to preschool, I had a child that I had to hold down and wrestle the pacifier out of her mouth to brush her sadly misaligned teeth. Little Einsteins was as close as my daughter was going to get to the preschools that so many of her peers were already attending.

But the past couple of days have been OUR turn to see some big milestones come to pass.

1. Peyton has clung tenaciously to her swim floaty. Completely convinced that she will drown the second she sniffs water if she tries to go without, I’ve done my best to bribe, cajole and manipulate her into even trying. No go. Then one day she just dropped the little jacket and jumped into the water….instead of sinking like the Titanic, her little legs and arms were churning in a furious doggy paddle! She was swimming….with no floation device! We’ve spent much of our Alabama trip swimming….yes, we drove 400+ miles away from Florida to SWIM….and she’s gotten completely comfortable in the water. She is swimming, she is jumping into the pool and making her way back to the side and just today she learned to swim under the water!! I’d take a picture of the cutest little tan booty bobbing up and down in the water, but I can’t pull my eyes away from it long enough to think about getting my camera. She is so fast! Summer Olympics 2020, HERE WE COME!

2. Peyton got her first Tabasco treatment. In our house we punish the part of your body that committed the offense. No chopping off of fingers or beheadings….but when it’s the mouth getting you in trouble, we go straight to the source. TABASCO! Peyton has developed this nasty habit of saying “I hate (insert person, place or thing here)”, usually to let us know IN NO UNCERTAIN terms that she wasn’t happy with our choices superceding hers.

Me: We’re having spaghetti for dinner.
Peyton: I want hot dogs.
Me: Maybe I stuttered…we’re having spaghetti for dinner.
Peyton: I hate spaghetti

She loves spaghetti, she adores spaghetti, she’d jump into a pool of it and bathe herself in the garlicky splendor of it all. But that’s not the point.

On and on it has gone.

“I hate chickens”
“I hate blue”
“I hate clouds”
“I hate TOMORROW!”

Well, they’re not too crazy about you either!

So I’d finally had enough and I told her that the next time she said THAT word I was going to be giving her the Tabasco treatment….I almost said “I HATE it when you say that!” But I managed to hold it back. She was appropriately horrified and threatened.

When the inevitable word came out in a fit of temper and the realization of impending doom hit, that phrase “her face fell” came into true meaning. Can I just say there was a level of morbid enthusiasm radiating off of Rachael? I mean, she was borderline giddy for anyone else to suffer through this torment.

The actual Tabasco placing was anti-climatic, she cried a little, she drank lots of milk and complained that her lips burned. But there were no theatrics, just a taking of her punishment and the acceptance that the little wall that stood between her and accountability for her actions was crumbling bit by bit.

3. Peyton had her first Anissa-moment, it’s hot-wired into her genes and I thought we had more time before they kicked in gear. Sadly, no. It’s a moment when I allow myself to get really irate with whoever I’m talking to because they don’t GET it, only to realize what I just said made NO SENSE…and then I get mad at them for making me acknowledge my own stupidity.

Peyton brought me a picture she drew. Her pictures are fantastic for a 4-year-old, full of detail and they are strangely mature. She could be artist when she grows up. An Olympian athlete/artist. And a brain surgeon….and astronaut. But no pressure.

Anyways, this picture was a little vague. It an oblong shape, with a happy face, 4 little round paws and nothing else to give me the slightest hint of what I was looking at.

Peyton: Do you know what this is?

Me: (I can’t possibly fathom) Is it a dog?

Peyton: Nope. Try again.

Me: Is it a horse?

Peyton: No, it starts with a D.

Me: Is it a dog?

Peyton: I think I already told you it wasn’t a dog. Try again.

I went momentarily blind from her scathing use of condescension.

Me: Ok, then. Is it a duck?

It looks nothing like a duck, but at this point it doesn’t look like anything, so any D word will do.

Peyton: No

Me: Donkey?

Peyton: No

Me: Dingo? Did a dingo eat your baby?

Peyton: YOU. ARE. REALLY. WEIRD. No

Me: Dinosaur?

Peyton: NO!! NO NO NO!

Me: I don’t know what it is, can you help me?

Peyton: It’s a truck!

Me: It is?

Peyton: YES, it’s a truck!

Me: What’s with the face?

Peyton: It’s a happy truck.

Me: Well, that makes sense. This is how you spell truck. T-R-U-C-K

Peyton: I TOLD you it started with a D!

She stomped off in a fury at my incompetence and later I heard her talking to Rachael.

Peyton: Mommy doesn’t even know that TRUCK starts with a D

Rachael: It doesn’t start with a D

Peyton: IT DOES!! It DOES!

Rachael: It starts with a T, Peyton

Peyton: I HATE T!

On with the milestones!