Can you fix it?

Walking.
Talking.
Riding a bike.

None of these milestones hold a candle to this next one. Ok, so I can't speak to the bike one, as Briar hasn't really taken an interest in pedaling since she always seems to have at least one willing set of hands to push her on the bicycle like some sort of modern day Cleopatra. Yet I still think this milestone she reached today has set the bar quite high.

Today, she drank from a can. My can. My long desired can of Sierra Mist Free.

I say long desired because I made a mad dash through the grocery store on my lunch (you know, that special time when the store somehow senses your need for efficiency and swiftly sends out their second string, on break from some sort of rehabilitative institution, staff?).

After having every last bit of patience tested by the zombie pregnant woman with what seemed to be a sneer tic checking my groceries, I bumped into the nicest human being I know, who on a good day makes me queasy she's so nice. This kind of nice just isn't normal. Saying what I wanted to her would have put me up there with baby seal clubbers, so I grinned and tried not to slip into her southern lilt as I tra la la'd about how I had to be getting to the girls.

I rushed to the sitter's, settled the girls in the car and drove us home. I went through the special routine of keeping them entertained while I unloaded the car (Read- grabbing bags, bounding up onto the porch and skipping back to the car while alternately singing and just generally making an ass of myself- works every time, I might add). After that it was the dance to keep them from playing with the plastic bags as I tried to get the things needing refrigerating put away. As luck would have it, Avery is 100% into the fridge. She can hear it open from 500 yards and be halfway in the crisper before I realize it. I made quick time and socked a couple of cans of pop in the back.

After an hour working, Avery went down for her nap. I went to the fridge and grabbed one of the now chilled cans of pop, I hadn't had four sips before Briar asked for a sip. No big deal, she is usually quite turned off by "bubbles." Not so today. Today she sipped, scrunched, and sipped again.

"S'Mommy's drink Briar is drinking. S'good."

"Yes, that's mom's drink."

"Can I Briar having some." (I kind of love it when she has a question morph into a statement to suit her fancy.)

"Yes, you sure can have some. Please just be careful. No spilling."

"Briar's careful."

And she was. Feeling magnanimous, and perhaps a bit lazy, I let her have the can and decided to wait until later to have another. Perhaps she'll tire of it, I thought.

Not so. Instead she found a way to more completely enjoy the Sierra Mist Free experience.