Today I had strapped my two year old into the infant swing at the kiddie park, and there is wakeboarding happening across the street on the water. “Look at that, Mommy. People falling in the water!” She points. I tell her “They are wakeboarding, honey. Do you want to go wakeboarding?”

She has those curls, you know. The ones that frame a little girl’s face and bounce around with her. The ones that go with cheeks so well. She says “Oh, no, Mommy. I am too busy to go wakeboarding.” The curls move back and forth with her, decisively. Her mouth firmly closes over perfect teeth. She knows she doesn’t want to go. But she gets diplomatic about it. She didn’t get that from me.

This is my third child. This is the third time I have had that ‘aha’ moment. Where I realize my kid is going to be outsmarting me. At everything. She is twenty-seven months old, tomorrow.


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