That's what Rachel said to me -- me! Her frumpy, still-has-20-or-so-pounds-to-lose-Mommy! -- as I sat down on the floor with her this morning to help her into her socks and shoes.
I thanked her profusely and hugged her. Is there any better gift?
I'm also teaching her to say where she lives in case, heaven forbid, we get separated somehow and she ends up wandering the streets of Salem, wondering where the hell Mommy is with the diaper bag full of apple chips, raisins and other goodies.
"What highway are we on, Rachel?"
"Aye five!"
"Where do we live, Rachel?"
"N'west Pot-land!" (that's NorthEAST, I told her tonight)
"What neighborhood do we live in, Rachel? Remember? IRVINGTON!"
"Irvington!" she said, pronouncing it perfectly.
Somehow, I don't worry about her ability to someday look out for herself. She's smart enough, I think.
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