One of the benefits of blogging is that it’s an easy way for family members to keep up with you; rather than having to find time for a decent phone chat while kids clamor for your attention, you can simply keep relatives updated via the Internet on your child’s daily life. And for their part, relatives are allowed a daily glimpse into a long-distance life of a loved one, permitting them to feel that they’re not totally missing out on everything.

So it’s no surprise to me that many of Maddie and Cora’s grandparents read this daily (hi, y’all). And last week one set of grandparents enjoyed my story of Maddie riding her “borrowed” tricycle in Target so much that they were moved to action.

Maddie’s long had an independent streak in her: as soon as she could walk, it was her preferred method of transportation, and she’d eschew the stroller whenever possible, her chubby little 14-month-old legs doing the two-mile-roundtrip walk to the park with determination. I barely had to show her how to hold a spoon before she was completely feeding herself, so it’s no surprise that she hates to have someone else brush her teeth for her, even though she still hasn’t gotten it quite right.

I’ve long admired this independence (can’t imagine where she gets it) and have even encouraged it, since the more she does the less Mommy has to do. Hi, I’m Jennifer and I’m lazy – remember me? But the more refined her motor skills get, the more tasks she wants to take upon herself, and the longer these tasks take.

Which makes Mommy’s life, um, less easy.

Maddie and I ran errands yesterday and ended up at one of Maddie’s favorite places of all time – Target.

Keep in mind that I’m not one of those moms who buys her kid a toy every time they enter a store; Maddie has no guaranteed “new thing” to look forward to each time she hits a Toys R Us or anything. My kid simply likes to shop, whether it’s perusing all the catalogs that come for her every day (“Did I get any mail? Any catalogs? Oooh!” she squeals at mail call each day) or running through a store. She’s got a vivid imagination and loves playing with all the “new” toys, and is (mostly) content to leave them on the shelves when she heads home (a few memorable meltdowns not withstanding).

Let me also say that I’m not one of those moms who allows her kids to take all the toys off the shelves, create a huge mess, and leave it for some poor teenager making five bucks an hour. But I do let Maddie fondle the stuffed animals, poke at the displays through a toy’s box, and in general explore in a tidy fashion.

Maddie’s in the midst of those terrible twos, and has several meltdowns a day, almost as if she’s got an allotment of them and feels obligated to use them all. I’ve got the formula for dealing with them down pat, but Maddie’s recently thrown a little wrench into my pattern, the clever little monkey.

First, there’s me making every effort to avoid a meltdown. I’ve learned she does really well with plenty of warning when a transition’s coming up, so I run through a list of upcoming events several times: “Maddie, we’re going to eat our lunch, play for a few minutes, then read books and take a nap.” The more foreknowledge she has the less she reacts as if I’ve sprung something grossly unfair on her, so I’m happy to oblige in this.