Pushing It

When I act in a certain way, the Dad says I am "pushing it". Then he does this funny gesture with his hands, like, pushing it, and gives me a stern look. Like grating on his nerves about something insignificant- wanting Chipotle twice in one day, wanting him to rub my neck a little more, or heaven-forbid, ripping on his favorite NBA team. Pushing it ...

Last week, I picked the lil' dude up from daycare. She had on her spare outfit- for emergencies. I made a comment about it.
"Lil' dude sat right in the dog's water dish today. Right when I told her no," the daycare lady said.
"Uh-huh, she likes the Beagle's water dish at home too," I said.
She handed me my daughter to zip up her parka.
Then she said, "she's starting to really push her limits here, like, it must be because she just turned one or something."
I just looked at her. Ummm, is she a brat? The daycare lady read my mind. "It's not bad. All kids do it."
Uh-huh.

Yesterday, I stood in the entryway at daycare, waiting for the lil' dude to be carried downstairs.
We talked a little about our plans for the holiday week, little chitchat about her boys being off school.
"Lil' dude climbed right onto the dining room table today," the daycare lady said.
'Oh, yeah, I guess. Over the weekend, she climbed from the kitchen chair onto the counter by the sink at her grandparents' house. She's ...," I rambled. Oh.
"Exploratory. Very exploratory," the daycare lady finished.

I am pretty sure that is pushing it, little girl. That is generally construed in a negative manner, my dear. You should work on that.