“Sometimes I am little and sometimes I’m big,” Jet announced.
I have to agree. At the advanced age of 2 years and nine months, sometimes she seems more like a little girl than a toddler, especially when she offers soothing words to one of her crying baby brothers! Yet, she is still too little to pick them up or hold them without the help of an adult.
I’m impressed at how eager Jet seems to take on all the responsibilities she can. Donning her shoes and jacket before we go for a walk has become her duty and pleasure, and woe betide any Grandma who tries to hurry the process with a little help! This week she announced that she would now close the snaps on her jacket as well.
On Monday’s walk, Jet discovered bird poop. Spring seems to be an excellent time of year to find a wide variety of it on the sidewalks in the neighborhood. “Is that bird poop?” she asked me excitedly.
“Yes, that’s bird poop.” She squatted down to get a closer look. “Don’t touch it,” I warned, as she looked ready to do just that. She pulled her hand back. “It’s yucky to touch. Just look.” From then on, every white spot on the sidewalk was a subject of wonder and nearly every one of those spots was indeed correctly identified as bird poop.
Each day Jet listens for the clock on the mantle to chime so that she can announce the arrival of lunchtime. In the kitchen, she hastens to inform me that it is her job to open the bottom drawer to retrieve her plastic dinnerware. “Stand back,” she says, moving her arms in a sweeping motion, “I don’t want to hurt your leg!” Once, in her eagerness to be sure that I didn’t usurp her privilege, Jet smashed the drawer into my shin, causing exceptionally dramatic noises of pain from her Grandma. Since then, she has been careful to keep me at a safe distance.
I love how Jet’s eyes light when I pull “her” step stool from the closet. One of her favorite jobs is helping with food preparation. I fill the measuring cups and she adds the ingredients and stirs. This week we made blueberry muffins to take home to her parents. A box of muffin mix has just the right amount of interaction for a child her age. She wasn’t sure what we were doing when she put the little paper cups in the muffin tin, but she became really excited when she realized that she was going to fill them with batter and even more excited when she got to eat one for her snack. “Don’t forget the muffins, Grandma!” she reminded me as we packed the car to go home.
“No way, sweet pea, I won’t forget!”