premeditation

One recent night… Who am I kidding? This entry in my notebook is from November. The Mama seriously needs to keep up on her blogging. As I was saying…

One relatively recent night as The Kidling was ready to get out of the bathtub, I noticed an impressive creation. Using some magnetic shapes, Alice had built an airplane. A bad ass airplane, if I do say so myself, and, since this blog revolves around the things that I do say so myself, then I will. Say so myself, that is.

That made exactly no sense, so you get bonus points for sticking with me.

Before I go on, a bit of background. The Kidling has been known to sneak out of bed after being tucked in with an excuse. She has to go potty/can’t sleep/is hungry/wants to apologize for her bedtime behavior/is thirsty/can’t find her dalmation/is scared/already got enough rest/(insert any excuse she can concoct that has worked at least one time before).

Where was I? Oh yes, the story. Thanks for sticking with me. Again.

On a typical bath night, Alice would take careful stock of the toys floating around the water to ensure all small toys are removed prior to draining. She is practical that way. On this November night, she wasn’t worried about the badass airplane she had spent the better part of her bathtime building. It was too big to worry about going down the drain. So big, in fact, that when I asked whether she wanted to move it toward the back of the tub, she insisted,

“Nu-uh. I’m not gonna move it. I don’t want to move it even when I come downstairs to say I cannot sleep.”

If getting out of bed after being bathed, groomed, read to, sung to, snuggled, and hugged/kissed/smooched/mooched/nooched/crooched/clooched,* and told “happy dreaming” is a crime, then I’m fairly certain that goes to mens rea.

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* Yes, we really do all of these things. Every night. They translate to hug/kiss/kiss/kiss/rub noses/big hug/gentle hug. This is why I think my kid is the best.

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consenter’s remorse

Someone didn’t get a nap yesterday. Not me. Okay, yes me, but that’s not who I am talking about. I’m talking about The Kidling. Girlie needs sleep, and melts down like a damn nuclear reactor if she doesn’t get two hours mid-day.

When The Dada and I picked her up from daycare (a certified nap-free zone), she was talking to a teacher about the rocks she had loaded up in the pocket of her little green dress. Alice told Cindy she wanted to take them home for her collection. Cindy noticed that one was actually a smooth piece of wood, not a rock. She asked whether she could go ahead and throw it away.

Alice agreed.

We said our goodbyes and headed to the car. That’s when Alice began to cry:

“I didn’t mean to say yes. I meant to say no. (sobs) If I hadn’t said ‘yes’ then I would still have it. I want that wood. (tears stream down her Kidling face)  I’ve never seen a smooth round wood piece before, and I meant to say ‘no.’ I wish I hadn’t said ‘yes.’ I didn’t mean to say ‘yes.’

“And my smooth pebble! (gasps in despair) I dropped my smooth pebble in the yard. Not the sandy part, the rocky part, and now it is buried. My smooth pebble is buried and I can’t find it again.

(mournful and resigned) I will never forget about it.”

Yep. That last bit broke my heart. And, in case you were wondering, the evening only got worse. And she didn’t even say anything funny.

before the toddler bed

January 2010, 2 years old

Before the toddler bed there was peace in this household. Evenings were for sleep and all living creatures did just that. But then…

Night 1: There is peace

Night 2: Alice falls out of her crib

Night 3: Alice climbs out of her crib

Night 4: Alice is in her new toddler bed

Nights 5-infinity: Alice runs into her parents room five times in the night, screeching to a halt and yelling, ”Mommy, get UP!” at the top of her lungs.

Lord help us.