My youngest child is two.

That sentence alone should sum up life in our household right now.
She is witty and charming. She gives amazing hugs and sweet little kisses. Her dolls are always covered with a blanket and she is quick to share with her brother (with the exception of french fries, which she shares with no one). She understands the power of a sweep of her long eyelashes when making a request of her father and the effect of saying “I love ewe” to her mother.
And then there are her opinions.
The child is a fount of opinions.
I don’t like hot dogs.”
“I want pink.”
“Let’s just go home.”
and the infamous
On this particular cold January morning, the two year old and I set forth on a quick shopping excursion to Target after dropping her brother off at preschool. After a stop by the bakery to scoop up the free cookie (“I don’t like chocolate chip. I like sprinkles.”) we rushed around the store gathering the items on our list.
The two year old, even with all her opinions, happens to be a fun shopping companion. Happily she helped me load and then unload the cart at the check-out lane. The lady ahead of us in line even commented on what spectacular manners the two year old possessed.
It was there that we spied it.
The public water fountain.
The fountain filled with millions of strange germs. The fountain whose cold water is sure to run down the sleeves of the two year old’s shirt. The fountain which I banned the two year old to drink from, asking her to instead drink from the clean, PINK cup brought from home.
Well, such a parental decree did not sit so well with the two year old.
She looked up at me from behind the seat of the cart, narrowed her hazel eyes and then issued a decree her own self.
“I will just lick the cart then.”
And she did.
There are 4.5 months left in her two year old year before the magical age of three graces us with its presence.
I hope I make it.

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