At 22 months

Megan, at 22 months old, is already shown that she is a spitfire. She's stubborn and opinionated -- and articulate enough to prove it at every turn. She's got a keen sense of what she likes and what she does not. (Very clearly stating "No! I do not like that. Put it away!" if you dare attempt to trick her.)

She worships her big brother to the point of mimicry. Sometimes this works out in our favor. For example, she's decided to potty train herself simply to be "like Logan Daniel" (as she's begun to refer to him on occasion. He's glad to hear less and less Brabee.) Although Meg has yet to meet a public restroom she's willing to make her acquaintance with she can go the full day dry (if you ignore naps) at home or Grandma's house. Seriously, we've done nothing on this front. She basically woke up one day announced, "I want go potty!" And she did. . .and she has ever since.

She's also very well aware of the great injustice of age discrimination. Logan went to Vacation Bible School for the first time this year. Having completed one full year of preschool, he's now old enough for the program our church offers for a week each summer. The last day, the kids put on a little assembly for all the adults that can find room in the sanctuary -- which is a lot. There were 300 children in the program and easily an average of two guests per child.

Megan, still not old enough to attend VBS, sat with those of merely watching the performance. The kids started their first song. Megan knew it, of course. She had, by default, learned the songs as Logan practiced with the CD they sent home with him one day.

At the moment, however, she was restless and yearning to do what she normally gets to do when in the sanctuary - tour the stain glass windows on either side. I whispered in her ear, "Why don't you sing! You know the song. Can you do the train whistle?"

She shook her head. She pushed out her bottom lip, tucked her chin down and looked up at me with that sad little face.

"No. I too small," she sniffed. "I too small to sing with Brabee."

She's loving. She likes to hug and cuddle. She blows kisses and rubs noses. She signs "I love you" as she says it. She hugs someone's leg and announces, "I like you." She tells one heckuva confusing knock-knock joke.

Megan loves to be read to. She commands it - "Daddy, you sit in that chair and read me Dora book." She loves to draw, sometimes on things we'd rather she not. She loves to help. She loves to mother, particularly her brother. As we headed out for some child-sized shoe shopping today, Logan was meandering his way to the van. Megan, already half buckled in her seat, leaned a bit to his side of the vehicle and yelled sternly, "Woden Danul get in dis car now!" He did, by the way.

And speaking of shoes, her response to the trip is simply a snapshot of what life with Megan is truly like. I knew better than to pick out her shoes without her. Daddy sat on the bench waiting patiently. Logan, still in the same size shoe and therefore out of the shopping 'fun', played off to the side. Megan followed me to the toddler girl section.

"I like these shoe," she said and handed me a hideous pair of shiny black patent leather Mary Janes with leopard print detailing. I told her they would not go with any of her pretty summer dresses. She shrugged and said, "Not now. I put back here."

I showed her what I had in mind - simply Mary-Jane style white leather Keds. She approved. We put them on her, she took off happy. I paid. Bruce lifted her up to ensure a swift departure. She looked down at her feet as he moved to the door and said, "Hmm, I like these new shoes."

Whew.

We headed to Toys R Us so Logan could spend his allowance money. He'd saved his regular $1 a week and the bonus he earned for the patio help. He had $8, a $3 off any purchase coupon and a lot of big plans. As we stepped from parking lot to sidewalk, Megan wiggled. She demanded I put her down.

"I want try my new shoe," she told me. I let her down and watched her run a few steps. She stopped. She turned and smiled at me as she said, "Yah. They work."