Let's start off with a video. Nap time is getting more and more interesting as she's getting older. About once or twice a week, a nap doesn't happen. Sometimes this happens instead:
Anna Zane is a wee bit crazy about clothes, putting them on and off herself. If they are pink, it's a huge bonus. She adores pink anything. Anything. Why God didn't make more veggies pink, I'll never know.
************
In July, the Thompsons visited. As usual, Anna and her cousin Gracyn took a bath together. They'd been in the big tub for about 30 minutes with me checking on them every few minutes or so. When I came in to let out the water, dry them off, etc, the girls started picking up the bath toys. Gracyn holds up something (the size of a small rock), and asks, "What's this?"
"Looks like poop," I reply.
Gracyn quickly drops it. Looks at me as serious as can be and says, "I need to wash my hands."
Obviously, the poo belonged to Anna, not Gracyn. These things happen ya know. We, the grown ups, laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.
I wish that was the last poop story. It's not.
In our usual routine, I talk to Anna through the monitor in the morning, telling her I will be up to get here in just a few minutes . . . like five at the most. This particular morning she asks if she can get out of bed. I always let her. (She's in a toddler bed now.) Being a big girl in a big girl bed, she's really into doing big girl things (a la the clothes fiasco from above). I walk in to find she's "changed" her diaper . . . her poopy diaper. She did successfully get it in the diaper pail, along with some smeared poop all over the handle. There's poop on the dresser drawer handles because she had to get the wipes--duh. She has about 10 dirty wipes in the floor. She has on a new pull-up, which she put on while leaning against her bed, specifically her pillow. Smeared poop is all over the pillow.
Y'all.
(And I thought this poop story was bad . . . . )
*************
In August, she put corn up her nose during dinner. Since Bryan was there, I was free to panic. (During both the sesame incident and the eye laceration, I was sans Mr. Medicine. Of course, he was at the store for the sesame and met me at the ER; but the eye . . . .) Thankfully, Bryan got it out after a few tries. Imagine the lecture we gave her.
*************
When I've asked her to do something (like pick up a toy, etc), she's responded a few times with, "Mom, I'm busy.
Driving down a hill the other day, she told me, "Mom, go haster, haster" (translation: faster). The girl likes speed. We're seeing an amusement park trip in our near future. During the simulated movie at the Science and History Museum, I just knew she was going to be scared. Nope. Wanted to sit in the seat by herself and loved every minute of it.
I hear this 1 million times a day: "Let me do it by myself" or "Let me try."
Bryan wants to call her Anita because she also says this, somewhat in a stutter, over and over: "I need a. I need a."
************
Speaking of our independent daredevil, she said goodbye to the baby floatie and did this all in 1 hour:
Last, please enjoy a few songs by the wonderful Anna Zane:
No comments:
Post a Comment