Rachel knows she's the grownup and we're the kids

Tonight we were talking about Drew heading to Seattle tomorrow. He joked that he'd love to take Rachel up with him, and she agreed, and then he laughed and said, "What would you do while I worked?"

"I could sign letters!" Rachel said.
"That's a good idea," I said. "What else would you do?"
"If I asked you to get me a snack, would you do that?" Drew asked Rachel.
"Yes!" Rachel said.
"It's like having my own P.A.!" Drew said.
"Your own butler!" Rachel countered.

***

Last night Rachel said, "When you and Mommy die, and Tia Daniella and Jojo die, then Valerie and I will have to be nice to each other!"

Drew was a bit taken aback and reminded her that he hopes she and Valerie will be nice to each other before then...

***

Tonight Rachel told me to eat my salad. It had been a long day for me; I spent the morning cleaning out the kitchen and tossing old equipment that we never use in preparation for next week's neighborhood garage sale (and I will spare you the details of what a time-consuming, occasionally disgusting job it was, but at least I have a completely full bag for the Yom Kippur donations to the needy), then raced off to an extra choreography session for my chorus, then back home and cooked dinner (after having made banana pudding yesterday for a party and gingerbread for us because Rachel had asked so nicely for it), so I was a little tired at dinner.

"Mommy, eat your salad!" Rachel ordered.
"She's taking a rest," Drew said.
"You need to eat your salad to grow big and strong," Rachel said. "Otherwise you'll get old and weak!" And then she added to Drew, "I'm giving Mommy good advice!"

Yes, honey, you are, except that I'm going to get old and weak no matter how many salads I eat.