“Done eating!” Jet announces as the last bite of oatmeal is scraped away.
She hands me her bowl.
I take the bowl. “Grandma is still eating.” I say. Jet knows she must sit in the highchair until we are both done.
“Done eating. All done. Jet all done.” She chants variations on the theme until I, too am finished.
As I walk to the sink to get one of the specially colored washcloths I use only for Jet she says, “Paper towel! Paper towel! Paper towel!” Her tone of insistence increases with each moment that I fail to take a paper towel instead of the washcloth.
She continues to ask for a paper towel as I wipe the oatmeal from her hands but stops long enough to point out that I’ve missed some oatmeal on her arms. I tell her we don’t need to use a paper towel when a washcloth will work, but she keeps asking anyway.
“My goodness! You are very demanding today,” I tell her. Already this morning I’ve heard that she had a battle of wills with her mother over her choice of clothing.
“Jet’s a mandy!” she agrees. “A mandy! A mandy!”
“Yes, you are de-mand-ing,” I agree. “Demanding.”
“Put milk in afridge,” she directs, as I pick up her cup to do just that. “Marcy amanding too,” she adds.
“Sometimes she is DE-manding, that’s true, but today, you are the Princess of Demanding!” I tell her.
Jet knows better: “Jet’s Mama’s little girl!”
“That’s right! You are your mama’s little girl! And who is my little girl?” I ask her.
“Mama! Mama is your little girl!”
“Yes! She is my little girl. Your Aunt Mary is my little girl too. They will always be my little girls!”
I put Jet on the floor but she holds her arms up to be lifted again. “Grandma hold her,” she says.
“Oh, yes.” I whisper in her ear. “Grandma could hold you forever.”