Today when Ivy woke up from her nap to find me there, not Shannon, she starting crying. When I picked her up she said "I want Mama." I'm not used to hearing full sentences from her, so this was awkward. It's much easier to be resolutely positive with an angry little kid when she isn't making any sense.
I've said this before, but knowing a baby who's learning to talk is slightly disturbing. It feels like your year-old puppy is suddenly calling you on the things it doesn't like, or what it wants but can't have. Don't put me in the room. I want to poo on floor. I want your food. I mean, what can you say? There's no longer any way to avoid being a big mean person and still keep things sane. And relatively clean.
In any case, she cheered up with a few readings of "Christmas Mice" (a year round favorite), and later we visited Narns at her work. I liked the coats. Ivy liked the hats.
Now I want a bagel.
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4 comments:
hee hee. Babies are scary. Do you read Dooce? www.dooce.com
I like her baby stories, too.
I'm quite fond of Miffy, mostly because of her weird-ass mouth, that, come to think of it, is vaguely sexual. Don't ask how. I can't explain it.
I'd never read Dooce but I've just spent an hour or so reading Dooce and I now read Dooce. This woman, Heather, is great. Her dog is great. Her husband is great (looking, with beard, forgive me). Her pictures are in focus.
I am afraid.
Also, you have corrupted Miffy for me. Even the name: Miffy. Muff? Minge? And the mouth is a horizontal X! If you imagine it slowly opening... it's like alien genitalia.
Alien genitalia?! How could you? And same to you, sister. Poor Miffy. How do we know she's a girl?
I think we get animals because they have all the benefits of children without all the verbal demands.
Speaking of which, I am restraining myself from getting a kitten.
You think you can float on this post forever, don't you!? Well you can't. You can't!
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