Assertive Rachel

Rachel appears to be blossoming into a confident young lady, for which I am very glad. A sampling:

Me (while cuddling her in the glider tonight): I love you, Rachel!
No response.
Me: And Daddy loves you too!
No response. Then...
Rachel: I love MYSELF!
Me: Do you love Mommy?
Rachel: (nods head)
Me: Do you love Daddy?
Rachel: (nods head)
Rachel: I love MYSELF!

I told her I was so glad she felt that way and that she definitely SHOULD love herself!

***

On the ledge above the changing table are two stuffed animals that keep falling down: an Uglydoll, which my former editor gave me when Rachel was born; and a mouse that came with the basket of flowers Ruth and Steve sent me while I was still in the hospital.
Rachel: Mr. Monster and Mr. Mouse, DON'T FALL DOWN! C'mon, guys, DON'T FALL DOWN!!

***

We got home late tonight because I was so wrapped up in a conversation about the gold standard with Drew (yes, we manage to have complex, geeky conversations even though we are separated by 3,000 miles). Result: Late dinner, me anxiously eyeing the clock because I have to mop the kitchen floor, look over a book about social media, organize my closet and, oh yeah, pay some bills. It is highly unlikely I will even attempt some of these tasks.

I started cleaning up and then asked Rachel to help me.
"No," she said firmly.
I nagged her a couple of times and then said firmly, "Rachel. Everyone in this house has their jobs to do -- you, me, and Daddy when he's around. PLEASE HELP CLEAR THE TABLE."

At which Rachel started crying. "I don't want to," she said.
"I don't care if you want to," I answered. "You have to. PLEASE CLEAR THE TABLE."

And then the most amazing thing happened. Still crying, she walked over to the table, picked up her plate and brought it to me. Then I told her to bring her cups of milk and water.

"I can't," she whined. "I spill."
"No you won't, honey," I said reassuringly. "Remember the last time you were afraid you'd spill but you brought over your cups and nothing spilled?" (this happened several weeks ago).

Well, she picked up her cup of milk and very carefully stood on tiptoes to set it on the kitchen counter. And then she got her water. And THEN, without me asking, she brought me her placemat.

"Thank you, Rachel!" I said. "That was very helpful to Mommy!"

She threw her napkin and my napkin in the garbage (she has taken to throwing her food wrappers into the garbage without me prompting her) and then helped me load silver in the dishwasher. When she wants to be (or, more accurately, when I make her, which I should do more often), she is a big help in the kitchen.