Jason: Lucy, please stop whining.
Lucy: I am NOT whining.
Jason: Yes, you are, now please stop.
Lucy: This is NOOOOTTTT WHIIINING.
Jason: Well if it’s not whining, can you please tell me what it is so I can ask you to stop doing it?
Lucy: DAADDDDDDDD!

On December 2, I was in a hurry to take Milo to school. I sat in my car at the light on 24th Street that turns left onto Guadalupe (and don’t worry, this story has no accident-related drama). You know, the really short left-hand turn light because of all the effing pedestrians, the one that lets approximately 4.5 alert cars through before turning red? Well I was at that light, the fourth car in line to turn, and the person in front of me, this minivan that was moving in slowmo, like it was on a wildlife tour of the Drag, was about to make me miss the light.

So I honked. A restrained “yo,” as opposed to an all-out “movegetouttheway.” But still, a honk. A rude-ass honk. The minivan moved.

So when I miraculously made the light behind this sloth, I saw the minivan SIGNAL RIGHT TO GO INTO THE PARKING LOT OF OUR PRESCHOOL. (Gulp.) What else could I do but drive around the block? I had to hide.

Milo said, “We not go school we go Pie house?”
Busted. I said, “Uh, maybe. We’ll see Pie, okay? We’ll go to school in a few minutes.”
“Two minutes?” he said, which is the only measure of time he can articulate beyond now and never.

The shame! I drove around some blocks and called Pie. She laughed (a lot). We discussed the logistics of who I might have honked at. The associated politics. My frustration and remorse.

It didn’t matter who I honked at. This moment was a fitting reminder of the persistent advice of Stacy’s mother, the lovely Jane Lively (who collected coffee cups but didn’t drink coffee): be sweet.

Oh, and be sweet all the time, apparently. Because Santa is watching you. Or maybe just the driver of a minivan from preschool.

Milo talks. A lot. While some of his discourse is in the form of friendly chatter, much of it is commands. Like the series of commands issued to me moments before the picture below was taken. I went to sit on Jason’s lap (yes, I still do that. Shocker). Milo said:

“Momma, you too big. You go sit over there. Get up. Move please.”

At least he said please.

Milo is obsessed with these granola bars for kids, which, despite their organic ingredients, are little more than cookies in the shape of granola bars. Yesterday, he wandered around the house, wailing, “I WANT Z BAR! I WANT Z BAR!” Lucy trailed behind him, mocking his wails.

Me: Lucy, don’t make fun of your brother.

Lu: Mom, I am not making fun of him. I am copying him, which the same as imitating him, which is more like mimicking him.

Me: Lucy, don’t mimic your brother.

Lu: Okay.

Milo: I WANT Z BAR!