One word she DOESN'T know ...

Wait.

It's simply not in Maggie's vocabulary. Not that she can't say it necessarily, but that she doesn't know what it means. No, even that's not true. I think for Maggie, the word "wait" is simply a one-way word. She has no problem telling someone else to wait, as in, "WAAAAAAAAIT! I'm the line leader!" (thank you preschool) as she darts in front of you to "lead" you up the stairs or into the kitchen, or "WAAAAAAAAIT! I can to do it myself!" as she snatches the toothbrush out of your hands.

But getting Maggie to wait? Nope. Uh-uh. No way. You're dreaming.

It happens when she walks to the car ... and then keeps walking down our driveway toward the street. It happens when I stupidly let her out of the cart at the grocery store. It happens when we say the blessing before meals. It happens when we pick her up from the church nursery and she bolts down the hallway. My instructions for her to wait fall on completely, totally, utterly deaf ears.

When it's a matter of safety, of course, I don't mess around. But sometimes, you just have to give in and give up. Like yesterday. Bobby requested homemade cookies, so Maggie and I obliged. But Maggie doesn't like making cookies, per se. She likes eating them, loves it in fact, and this includes the individual ingredients. But the actual making? Not so much. Instead, each and every item we put in the mixing bowl went into her mouth.

"Mommy, what's that? Can I eat that?"
That's baking soda, honey, I don't think you'll like it.
Insert fingers. Lick fingers. Gag. Spit out offending ingredient.

"Mommy, what's that? Can I eat that?"
That's brown sugar, honey. Don't eat it.
Insert fingers. Lick fingers. Declare "I like the round sugar!"

"Mommy, what's that? Can I eat that?"
That's flour, honey. I don't think you'll like it.
Insert fingers. Lick fingers. Gag. Spit out offending ingredient.

"Mommy, what's that? Can I eat that?"
That's raw oatmeal, honey. I don't think you'll like it.
Insert fingers. Lick fingers. Gag. Spit out offending ingredient.

It didn't matter how many times she gagged; she continued sampling ingredients one at a time, hoping I guess for the next bite of yummy round sugar. Finally, I gave up. I handed her a small bowl full of the various dry ingredients and let her go to town. In the end, she cared less about the finished cookies and more about exploring what went into them. Maybe there's a lesson in that for all of us.