STOP THE PRESSES

This morning when she woke up I brought Edith into our bed to nurse as usual. After a few minutes Tom rolled over and said, "Edith! It's almost your birthday!"

Edith smiled and nodded, not breaking her stride. She has gotten adept at communicating while nursing.

"Yes," I chimed in. "Today is Little Bear 3, and in two days it will be Little Bear 5, your birthday. Do you know what will happen then?"

Expecting her to say that we'd go pet sheep and fly kites at the farm, the planned birthday outing that we've been discussing for several days now, we were totally unprepared for her answer. "Yes," she said smiling confidently. "Edith stop drinking mommy milk."

Tom frantically motioned to me over her head to stay calm, but we were grinning at each other like two dumbfounded Cheshire cats. One or twice within the last couple of months, I've asked Edith gently when she was going to stop drinking mommy milk. "When you're two?" I would suggest. And she would nod and smile, all the while nursing away. Needless to say, I hadn't put much stock in those moments. But that kid's mind is a steel trap these days, and she's forever amazing us with what she has processed.

If this is for real, it will be the most amazing growing up moment yet.