06.06.06 ... the number of the beast ...
Ok, so it's 2,000 years late, you know some demons like to be fashionable.
Ours certainly does. So much so that it makes me pine for the days when I could dress her in anything I wanted and there wouldn't be so much as a peep out of her little rosebud lips let alone a low gravely roar destined to erupt into a bone-chilling scream if she-who-must-be-appeased is not.
Oh, how I wasted my opportunities all those months by just throwing on whatever was next in the pile of clean zips. It is my penance, I suppose, that she carries on like a flailing banshee every time I try and exchange her worn purple shorts and too-small purple onsie (her absolute favorite ensemble) for a stylish girly outfit I myself would never wear but LOVE, nonetheless.
The first time I witnessed what I thought of as a tantrum, I laughed hysterically. For a split second, her body pulsed with 10,000 volts of excess energy and her fists pummeled the air with every ounce of her weight. In no time it was over. From the perspective of a new mother marveling at the size and shapes of the residue in her diaper, I can assure you, it was the cutest thing ever.
Of course I knew they'd grow in magnitude these emotional shock waves, but I thought my Richter scale of tolerance would grow, too.
I never expected to be holding her bedroom door closed while she stood on the other side, trying to rip it off its hinges in a fruitless effort to knock time off her "Time Out." What else could I do? The figurative door had already closed on any "time off for good behavior" once she'd climbed out of the crib, opened the door and ran to the television room, not once but THREE TIMES.
So after a loud, mother-daughter standoff (probably not our first, but definitely the most climactic to date) she finally got off to a fretful sleep without the usually pleasantries. I wondered what I was going to wake up to this morning; the day of the proverbial BEAST.
It sounded a little like the tinkling of windchimes in the cool, just-about-summer air:
"Oh, hi mommy. You see this? It's my binks. I'm AWAKED now. I'd yike some hot milk, peas."
THE YAYA REPORT
What's happening at the other mom's house
Oh, my. It would appear Annabel has gone deaf.
LORI: "Annabel, we don't color on the couch. We only color on the coloring book. ...
.... Anna-Bel? Are you listening to me?"
Or maybe she's just practicing to be an attorney
ANNABEL: "I'm yus cheuking to see if it works."
Of course, she might also be a private eye
LORI: "Oh, you're listening now, aren't you? Now that I'm talking to your mom on the phone, huh? Yeah, I can see you're little wheels turning up there: 'Un-oh, your telling mom all that stuff?' Yep. She's watching me like a hawk right now. Guilty conscience."
1 comment:
It's so facinating to look at all the different ways toddlers tantrum. I'd like to see Jude do a little bit of the fist shaking, at least long enough to snap a pic!!
Jude will plop down on the ground when frustrated, which sounds relatively benign except that I think his superpower is his ability to triple his body weight at will. Restaurant dining rooms, parking lots and dirty public restrooms have been the settings for his little sit-in protests.
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