Maggie Rose is 18 months old now, and more entertaining by the day — though also more stubborn and Daddy/Mama like.

Over the weekend, I was in the kitchen, stirring/chopping/frying something, and I heard Maggie rummaging around in our bedroom.  Her current favorite game is to empty our drawers of my socks and unmentionables, and then run screaming to answer the UPS man’s daily knock on the door, wearing several layers of said unmentionables as necklaces.  I’m not sure what the UPS man — who appears to be young and childless, and is definitely stereotypically good looking — thinks about that.  I don’t want to know, actually.

But anyway, I was about to go rescue my favorite Smart Wool socks from Maggie’s clutches when she emerged, wearing Honeydew’s ski goggles.  Honeydew hasn’t skiied in years, and generally wears these goggles while zipping around on his 4wheeler/snowmachine like the crazy man he is – though I must say, he does not run around wearing underwear on his head, unlike his progeny.

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In the goggles, Maggie looked so grown up and ready to rip that I berated myself for my daily, secret celebration of our current lack of snow, which makes my grocery procurement so much easier than in years past.  And then the future flashed before my eyes: Nat Nat and Big Maggie teaching Maggie Rose to ski; Maggie Rose riding the lift by herself for the first time; Maggie Rose hucking herself off a cliff, filming ski videos with her friends.

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And then I returned to my cooking and my silent celebration, vowing to spend some time interesting Maggie in chess, or swimming, or … something not involving cliffs.

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