My daughter will be 3 in a few weeks. She’s transforming into a girl. The baby/toddler stage is definitely history. If there is ever any doubt that I’ve shaped her to this point, I need only stop, look and listen for a bit.

A few nights ago I was cooking dinner while Olivia wiped down the refrigerator with a sponge. She likes to do various house chores as a form of play. I appreciate her interest and look forward to the day when her play cleaning actually results in me having less work to do. It seems I am always cleaning and recleaning. The never ending cycle frustrates me greatly, a point Olivia apparently has not missed.

So I’m cooking and she’s wiping and we are quite the team in the kitchen. All was well until I had the nerve to open the refrigerator for butter, touching her freshly wiped handle. “Moooooooooom!” she announces with her hand on her hip and her sponge pointed at my nose, “I just finished cleaning that!”

Oh, Livie, my dear. Boy do I ever know how you feel. My apologies, Sugar Lump. In the future I’ll do better so you haven’t labored in vain.

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