Today Clara woke up and ran wild around the house. I couldn't get her to settle down enough to dress her.
"Hi, 'uddy!" she yelled at Wilbur. "'Bur, 'Buh! 'Buh! Eeedle deedle deedle dee. Beedle weedle!" Wilbur lay in the upstairs hall, panting. She straddled him like a horse. "Ha-ha!" she yelled.
"Honey, please do not ride Wilbur like a horse. It's not good for his back."
Wilbur looked back at her and then wiggled out from under her, sending her rolling. "Ha-ha!" she said, getting to her feet.
"Mommy! 'Nack!"
"What do you want for snack?"
"'Oast dam."
I made her some toast with blackberry jam. "Tair peese," she said, pointing to one of the chairs at the table.
"Okay, but sit on your bottom. On your bottom! All the way. No squatting. And no climbing on the table, okay?"
"Dam. Eeeeeeeee-oasty. Dam, dam, dam. Mommy, Mommy, Mommy." She nodded her head with pleasure.
After snack she went to the living room to play with a big box that a plastic basketball hoop came in. She'd created a dent in the middle of the box, so it was like a slide. I looked closer and realized that at some point in the last few days, while she was running around diaper-less, she'd peed on the "slide."
"Okay, let's go downstairs," I said, lifting her off the box.
Later, we got ready to go to the library. By the front door, she suddenly became fragile.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
"What's wrong?"
I crouched next to her, and she let out a combination moan-chuckle.
"He doo doe," she said, handing me her Crocs. Then she twined her arms around my neck and curled her legs up like a little monkey, snuggling against me. I kissed her behind the ear and put her shoes on. It seemed like she was in pain, and I divined that it was probably either gas or her diaper rash.
But a second later she wiggled free and took off for the pantry, where, while I was distracted packing her diaper bag, she grabbed a can of vegetable shortening and a jumbo can of tuna off the bottom shelf to make a tower.
No comments:
Post a Comment