A. is quite the determined little climber and very very busy. Here she is playing in the toilet with her bath toys. This is how crazy my day has been all day long with no letup. How was yours?
September 27:
Scene: it's quiet at home -- too quiet.
Katie: "Where's Amelia? I hope the bathroom door is shut."
I checked. It wasn't.
Yesterday . . .
After I left for work this morning, Katie had a delightful start to her day. Amelia climbed into the toilet at 6:30 a.m.
Today, I offered a different perspective on my 15-month-old daughter:
Usually you hear about A. the Difficult. Allow me to tell you about A. the Adorable.
This evening, I walked over to the front door, locked the deadbolt, then turned back into the living room. A. came running up to me with her arms raised. Either she was refereeing a football game and someone had just scored a touchdown, or she wanted me to pick her up. So I picked her up.
She immediately turned to her mother and blew her kiss after kiss after kiss. I realized then that A. thought she was going bye-bye with her daddy. My fiddling with the front door had misled her into thinking I was departing. I set her down and told her I hated to disappoint her, but that I wasn't going anywhere. Then, for the first time in her life, she ran over to the front door, plucked one of my shoes from the pile of family footwear, and brought it to me. I tossed it back. Then she ran back to the pile and picked out one of *her* shoes. She followed me around the house with it, trying to convince me to take her out for a night out on the town.
So far I'm resisting, but the child can be pretty persuasive -- especially when she's so darn cute!
Then, half-an-hour ago:
So you know how I just posted about A. the Adorable? Never mind. This just happened. Notice the bath toy. She pulled it out of the toilet bowl when I walked in. Give. Me. Strength.
