Monday, February 21, 2011
The Wild Orange will turn two on Thursday. The terribletwoness encroaches. Who am I kidding, People?! It's already here! With a vengeance!
Yesterday, Clementine stood up and turned around in her booster seat; opened a high door in the hutch; grabbed a pink, ceramic tea kettle that had belonged to my grandmother; and dropped or threw it on the wooden, dining-room floor. It broke, of course.
It did not hurt Clementine's hind end when I swatted it, after pulling her down; however, it very much hurt her feelings. She stuck her lip out and said: "Mommy! Not happy! Cryin'!"
She's growing up. She's figured out how to turn doorknobs, thereby opening doors. She's learned how to climb the bar stools and grab things off the counter. Today, she overturned an entire bag of Goldfish crackers on the kitchen floor. Deja vu on the above swat-pout story.
Her hair is a perpetual rat's nest. She draws on her hands with ink pens at every given opportunity.
When I tuck Clementine in, she bosses me; she likes to be covered by specific blankets, in a certain order. She prefers a particular song on the mobile. She wants to lie closest to the baby stuffed elephant, but she wants a whole host of other stuffed animals, too. Sometimes, she will lie down without complaint only if she takes Sir Topham Hatt to bed with her. I find this disturbing, somehow.
Her newest word is: "Huh?," and she's wearing that puppy out. Here's an example, from earlier:
"Do not do that!"
"Crayons aren't for coloring your table!"
"Crayons are only for color books!"
You get the picture. On a positive note, these highly annoying exchanges with Clementine--in which I star, as parent--really do motivate me to stop playing dumb with the Lord. (Maybe with my beloved, too, but don't tell him I wrote that.)