My daughter: Dare devil.

We call Kitten many things: lots of derivatives of her real name, plus Trouble Maker, Miss Chievious, Destructo-Girl. And now the latest: Dare Devil.

This morning after we dropped Lovey off at school I ran to the store to grab a few things I needed before the weather changed. I figured I could run in and out and get home in time for the morning nap. Lately Kitten has been very adventurous. I love that about her spirit, but it comes with some dangerous consequences. She has fallen off the bed-twice, crawled into the coffee table-also twice, and catapulted herself off a chair-thankfully I caught her foot before she hit the floor-that time. The grocery cart has become her newest playgroup for exploration. She loves to turn around in the seat and look at the food in the cart behind her. Or try to pull her sister's hair. She has managed to do it even with the seat belt tightly wrapped around her. So today I thought I could occupy her with something in her hands and so I didn't strap her in. Big mistake. HUGE. (Name that movie.) We made it through the store with me redirecting her to sit the whole time. At self check out I was scanning my items when I heard a noise. I turned and Kitten was laying inside the cart! In about five seconds flat she turned around in the seat and fell into the cart. Thank god she didn't decide she wanted something on the floor. I scooped her up and assessed the damage. Thankfully she seemed okay. I calmed her down and held her for the rest of check out. I then had a nice chat with the lady at the self check out next to me about how we get more hurt than they do when they pull stunts like this. She told me to go home and rest. As if. I live with Evil Knevil.

When we got home Kitten had developed some very attractive goose eggs on her forehead to make the one she got yesterday from the coffee table incident. We had a nice snuggle before her nap and I was struck with how her adventurous spirit will continue to rattle my nerves for the rest of my life. But I won't stifle it. I want her to be an explorer and a risk taker. It makes her her. At the same time I couldn't help but think what Edmund Hillary's mother said when he told her he was going to climb Mount Everest. Did he get a "that's nice dear"? Did she tell him to pack a sweater and clean undies? What about Jacques Cousteau's mom? Did she worry that he was going to run out of air? Either way, I know they supported their children and wished them well on their adventures and then prayed hard until they returned to their arms. Obviously, otherwise Edmund and Jacques probably wouldn't have gone to the heights or the depths they went. I'll be sure to let Kitten go where her heart takes her, just as long as it's not over the side of the grocery cart again.