at home with the natives...

[dwenius]

While I was changing out of work clothes, Rose comes toddling around the corner like a drunk, wobble wobble, muttering under her breath in that "bee-bah-boo-see-waaaaaa" way that they do. She makes a beeline for the bookcase, grabs the first red-spined book she can see, and flings it onto the floor. This opens up a gap, of course, which will allow other books to be more readily de-shelved. NOW she's excited, arms flapping, "BAH BAH BAH BAH!!!!" and books are flying, while I'm trying to, you know, get pants on. I don't know what it is about red books, but they always go first.

Later, I'm trying to get dinner ready. We have been toying with the idea of skipping Calvin's afternoon nap, which is incompatible with most preschool schedules anyway, so he can be a little droopy in the afternoons. But I need to cook, in my own inefficient and clumsy way, so I set him up with the electronic nanny (Teletubbies version) and a little while later I hear him clomp clomp down the hall to fetch his blanket and pacifier. I'm chopping and so forth, and here comes Rose again, toddle toddle around the corner into the kitchen, and she stops right behind me. Not, "right behind me, silently, so I'll knock her down when I turn towards the stove", but rather, "right behind me, a ways back, waiting for me to turn and acknowledge that she is there. Waiting. Expectantly. You can cut the anticipation with a knife."

So I turn, and all I see is a huge grin with Calvin's pacifier in the middle of it. Calvin's pacifier, which she has been trying to grab for months. So I head out, and sure enough, he's suddenly comatose, a rag doll. She walked right up and plucked it from his mouth. It takes 5 minutes to wake him up, then 10 minutes of screaming, then switching to the Fire Truck song to keep him awake.

These are the ways dinner gets delayed around here.

Comments

[dwenius.livejournal.com]

The screaming was for being awakened after only a few minutes when what he really wanted was a 3 hour monster nap that would have turned our evening into one long failure to get him into bed. He was five minutes into being woken up before he realized his pacifier was gone, but Rose, bless her sweet little toddler heart, gave it right back to him when asked.

One year olds are the best people. They walk (some of them), they talk (if you know what to listen for), they understand the word no without ever wanting to use it, and they love you unconditionally.