Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Three Things

3 AM, she cries out "Door! Open door! Door open!" and I, foolish mortal that I am, decide to do what she asks. I open her door (yes, we close it when she sleeps so that she doesn't have run of the house now that she's in a toddler bed and out of her crib) and bring her into my room, assuming she wants some cuddle time.

Foolish man. Foolish. Neither of us slept as she played "climb on daddy," "scream at the ceiling," and her favorite middle-of-the-night game "jump on the bed while screaming at the ceiling and sometimes mistake daddy for the bed so jump on his belly too."

It was a long morning. I'm not saying I tried to sell my daughter to a passing Romani clan but I'm not denying it either. They turned me down though and said they only take children who sleep through the night. They have standards.

She tried to pick up something off the floor and knocked her head against the table. She threw herself onto the floor (now a nice, soft rug, thankfully) and proceeded to throw a small tantrum. She wasn't hurt, not really, just frustrated. She threw her fit and immediately did the exact same thing.

Reach for the thing on the floor, thunk her head into the table, throw herself on the floor and have a fit.

Repeat two more times.

Finally I reached over and moved the table about two feet away from whatever it was she was trying to pick up. She bent down, picked up the cup (I think it was), and immediately brought it over to the table, threw it on the floor, bent down to pick it up, thunked her head on the table and repeated the process.

I moved the table again.

She threw a fit that I moved the table.

I just can't win today.

Reaching for her toy on the table she couldn't quite reach it and started crying. She tried harder and harder to reach it, straining her little fingers and arms to their maximum distance but the maraca toy was still just barely out of her reach. I asked her, as I often do, "Do you want help?"

She turned her little storm-cloud look on me and sullenly replied "Help!"

I walked over and put the maraca within her grasp. I apparently did it wrong because the maraca was then launched straight down at the ground at the fastest speed her little toddler arms could muster.

Right into my big toe.

I can't win today.

Can I have a do-over?

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