permissive parenting?

Abbie's PT came yesterday, just in time to witness her take a temper tantrum with gusto. She wanted to play in the exersaucer but I said, "No," because I didn't want her to be tired out before the physical therapy session. She was unhappy with this answer, and right at that minute came the knock on our door. When Abbie recognized it as the guy who had been poking her earlier in the week, she absolutely lost it.

So, at least he was able to witness her new ability to roll onto her stomach from her back (with the added enhancement of kicking legs and wailing). The best thing, though, the thing that made me almost giddy with happiness was when she slapped me.

I don't in general condone hitting around here -- in fact, I bet the girls would claim that I am pretty adamantly against it. But on Monday, when the PT was testing Abbie's arm strength, all she could do was cry, "all done! all done!" while her arm hung limply in his hands. Today, she pushed him with her other hand, twisted herself to get away from him, and then in anger flailed out at me, slapping me right on the forehead. I looked over at Chris, and the expression on his face exactly expressed how I felt.

He was smiling, almost laughing.
She slapped me!
We are so proud!