"Oodles is a gay measurement of time right?"

I will be the first to admit that each new age I claim to be my favorite.  Watching G grow and change is the best part of my life, hands down.  But 2.5 to 3 was a rough time.  So much attitude coming from such a tiny body!  The rudeness, the fits, time out after time out.  Wow.  

But 3.5?  It's a whole new ball of wax.  You have no idea how awesome this age is, unless you're going through it right now.  Because 4, 5 and 6 will distract you from how wonderful 3.5 is, but right here right now I can tell you, it's the best.  Please don't think she has sprouted angel wings and a halo, just a couple weeks ago I looked at her and thought; Do you KNOW how easy it would be for me to knock you over?!  How can you have zero fear as you cop that attitude/whine your ass off at me?!  YOU ARE SO MUCH SMALLER THAN ME CHILD, RESPECT THAT.  But we were all coming down with the plague, so maybe it was a fluke.  This week though?  This week I'm falling in love with her all over again.

Her imagination is off the hook.  I'm this person/animal/character and she's that one.  Now I do this and she does that and then we do this together.  She is baby Francine's mom, so that makes me her grandma and daddy is her grandpa and babies don't talk yet and they only eat milk.  She learning song lyrics faster than I can decide if this song is appropriate for her to hear.

We sit down and play games, board games; Chutes and Ladders, Candyland, Memory.  She's at that fantastic middle place, where we can JUST get to the end of a game, but by then she's Done, and I don't have to play it again!  Because as I learned at the group home, my patience is not infinite when it comes to game time.  (War can suck it, now and forever, I'm not playing it.)  She's grasping the rules and concepts, is excited to do it, and then we move on!  

We go to the grocery store, and sure, she's poking the pita breads as we wait for our lunch meat at the deli, but she's keeping up with the cart, running her ass off, (I don't care how short your legs are, we got things to do, I'm not here to mosey.) and sitting in the cart when she finally gets tired.  We talk about what I'm buying, what it's for, what I'll turn it into.  She offers her opinion, what she thinks her dad will like.  We discuss what's next on the list.  We run into trouble when we walk by the dairy filled devil doughnuts she wants so bad, but we talk about what makes her belly hurt, and gives her rashes and the choices she needs to make.   And she did get stuck in the coffee isle with her hound dog nose when she discovered the bags have vents to smell the beans inside.  She just couldn't tear herself away; Mom!  Smell this one!  Now this one!  But they did smell good.

We go to the stupid Walma.rt and she makes clear and concise arguments about why I need to buy her more PJs; "Mom!  Look at these jammies!  They have dogs on them!  And purple stripes!  Feel how soft they are!  I will be so warm and cozy in these jammies, I really need them, can we buy them mom, please?!"  Not that annoying toy over there, not that princess themed whatever, she wants PJs.  And cards.  "Mom!  Can we look at cards?!  Can we get one?!  Someone needs a card!"  And she's right! Someone always does need a card!  Last time she asked it turns out it was the night before my in laws 37th wedding anniversary, and they did need a card.  And no one gives a shit if the card matches the occasion because SHE'S THREE.  And picking this out Just For You.   And you are grateful.

A few days ago she helped me unload the dishwasher.  Like picked out the tupperware, stacked it up and put it in the cabinet since she can reach that one.  Then handed me all the stuff on the bottom row that I had to put up high.  Didn't fling water all over the place, take off with dish or throw around something that could break.  Just helped me.  On Monday she helped me clean the bathroom.  No joke.  Wiped down the counter tops, sinks and the door knobs.   I only caught her huffing her windex rag once.  (I'll be getting something less chemically from here on out, I can't do the vinegar water stuff with her because with her sensitive nose it gives her the cough gags.) She helps me clean up her toys.  Like seriously puts them where they belong.  

I feel like, after you have a baby, everything that needs to be accomplished that doesn't directly involve the kid has to be done in spite of them.  The grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, it's done as quickly and non intrusively as possible so as to not draw attention to the fact you are otherwise occupied with something that looks so dangerously tempting.  Or to avoid meltdowns due to the fact they are on their own, or the fact they are stuck in a grocery cart doing nothing fun at all.  You plan and use nap time as wisely as you can.  But right now I'm doing all this stuff WITH her.  She is there one hundred percent, and if I'm doing something she doesn't want to do, she can do something else.  WITHOUT ME.  For reals.  I took my kid to kickboxing class with me tonight.  Granted, it's a very relaxed atmosphere, a normal gym wouldn't allow her the freedom she had, but I wouldn't have taken her there probably anyway so there you go.  I put a movie on, gave her some books and a doll, they had a box of toys there some chalk and a chalkboard and she was golden.  She came out and danced, went back in, came out and kicked the bag, went back in, did some jumping jacks, showed me the toy she found, and went back in.  Is it going to always be that simple?  HELL TO THE NO. But it was tonight.  These abilities exist, and she can use them to her advantage.  And mine, it turns out.  

Hands down, 3.5 is my favorite so far.  I love who this kid is turning out to be, and I love that I get to be here to see it.  

*My quote is again random from my phone, where is my brain lately?  I want to say Glee maybe, but not sure.  I did borrow the box set of season 2.  Lucid Lotus won the (pretend) prize money on the last one with a 'Doctor Doolittle, where the dog tells him he loves him' right off the cuff, just nailed it.   High five yo.