I catch Gigi trying to pour milk into a plastic cup from a rather full gallon jug. The refrigerator door remains open. She’s standing on a stool that’s been dragged mightily across the kitchen floor. So many alarms begin buzzing loudly in my head as I come upon this kitchen scene.

I question the wisdom of her actions and Gigi says, “I’m a big girl now and can pour my own milk without a pawblem.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Hey, stop! It’s going to spill…”

She carefully sets the jug down unevenly, but only a small amount of milk slops out onto the counter. “Well, you’re a big girl. Will you pour the milk? Right now?! I’m in a hurry for my thirst.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”