Digging for gold

It was bad enough that my mom dressed me in a onesie AND overalls after Miss Susan told her I had been exploring my diaper and wiping the contents on my leg. Did she and my dad really have to add insult to injury by giving me the new nickname "Dirt Angel"?

This is the most recent photo I could find of someone almost pulling off overalls.
This guy is in a nursing home, now.

What has four legs, a shell and lives above my cubbie?

Last week during circle time, we learned about pets. Everyone was invited to bring something that reminded them of their own pet and we talked about it with the group. I live in a pet free building (good call, management company) in the city. Consequently, I brought my plush squirrel, Eggo, who reminds me of the little guy that lives in the tree outside my window, where animals belong.

I'd like to see your dog try to climb a tree
with an intact waffle in his mouth.

Little did we toddlers know that the whole show-and-tell was just a clever rouse to get us excited about the new class pet. This week, Miss Susan proudly delivered Turtle to the toddler room. He lives in about an inch of water in a small plastic box right above my cubbie. I don't think the placement was accidental. After I brought a squirrel to the learning center, Miss Susan probably assumed I needed more exposure to indoor animals. Too bad she didn't come to me for a name, too. Apparently, he will be known as "Turtle" until she can think of a name that is easy enough for us to pronounce. I would have suggested "Vermouth."

An animal inside? That's crazy!

Despite the fact that he is basically a Salmonella machine and looks nothing like the Lonesome George I was expecting, Turtle is quite loveable. He lets us touch his back (I wash my hands immediately after, of course) and he hardly ever hides in his shell, unless Julian is around. From afar, having a pet isn't the worst thing in the world.

Happy Birthday, Ben

Last weekend, I got to see where Ben sleeps and I didn't even have to be a creepster stalker to make it happen. In fact, I received an actual invitation to join Ben and his family (and two dozenish other revelers, but whatever) as they celebrated Ben's second birthday. My mom didn't even tell me about the party until the morning I was scheduled to attend because she knew I wouldn't be able to contain my excitement for more than 38 seconds once I knew I was going.

A young lady never forgets her first boy/girl party. I put on a lovely purple dress, wore my hair down, with a bow, rather than my usual learning center pigtail look and boarded the train for a quick commute to Ben's neighborhood. When I arrived, Ben was waiting at the top of the stairs, squealing my name. Well, I had no choice. I squealed back.

Ben's mom set up a killer, jungle themed event. There were inflatable animals in the living room that became our party favors. There was a water table with fishing poles on the back deck. The snacks were amazing. Best of all, we could play with anything we wanted in the room that Ben and his sister share. Every toddler knows that other kids' toys are always the coolest.

I took my two foot tiger with me everywhere for the rest of the weekend
but it mysteriously disappeared Monday morning.
I'll have to talk to my mom about that.

In a quiet moment, my mom admitted to Ben's mom that our family doesn't know any other kids and that this was the first birthday party I had ever attended. I thought it was social suicide, for sure. Luckily, Ben's mom is awesome, confided that Ben could use a few more friends, too, and suggested that we all get together this summer.

I was allowed to stay an hour past my normal nap time, but still had to leave before most of the guests. I sang Happy Birthday all the way home on the train.

I don't pretend to be a bear of the people, but I do try to be a bear for the people.

This morning, when my mom was getting me settled in my chair for second breakfast, Maximus's (I kid you not) mom was walking out of the infant room. She looked at me and said, "She is just so cute!"

 

Then, she stopped, looked at Ben, Annabelle and Miss Susan and said, "I mean they're all cute" and whispered, "But she is just SO cute!"

 

Miss Susan laughed a little and said, "Yeah, she's very popular."

I took the compliment with a blush. Being this modest can be tiresome.

With this as your standard,
it's no wonder you think I'm cute.

 

 

Dear Parents, I'm over it

I am a skilled communicator. Everybody says so. I have over fifty words, most of which I enunciate perfectly. Not only can I nail the basics like more, banana, water, up, open and Ben, but I'm able to say some more challenging words like dinosaur and bicycle, with ease. So, I'm perplexed by what had to have been a series of misunderstandings on my parents' part this morning.

After waking up at 5:50 this morning and giving them a full 38 seconds to get me out of bed before I started screaming at them, I thought we were going to have a pleasant morning. My mom read me a few pages of the 69 page epic, Cars and Trucks and Things That Go while my dad started his day. Things were going smoothly.

Then, breakfast hit. I was enjoying a nice bowl of strawberries with a side of Kix (Bear tested, mother approved), when I suggested to my dad that he also serve me some Goldfish crackers. He had the audacity to tell me that Goldfish are not for breakfast and that I already had perfectly good food in front of me. That explanation was unacceptable and I absolutely let him know it.

I didn't say I wanted a healthy breakfast.
I said I wanted a happy breakfast.

After I was removed, crying, from my high chair, I thought I might have better luck with my mom. I met her in the bathroom, where I figured we could just have some girl time and hang out but she took the opportunity to brush my teeth. My top AND bottom teeth. Who does she think she is? They are my teeth and if I want to have strawberry seeds stuck in them for the rest of the day, that's my business. Maybe I was planning a Pretty Woman and I was going to sneak away to floss in private later. I mean, I wasn't, but she didn't know that.

The humiliation hit its peak when we were finished in the bathroom and it was "time" to get dressed. Shouldn't I be the one who says when I'm ready to put my clothes on? If I want to read another 10 pages of Cars and Trucks and Things that Go, shouldn't that be my choice? And if I want to rip a page out of my favorite 40 year old book while my mom gets my shirt out of the closet, who is she to take that book away and put it on a high shelf where I can't reach it? No matter how many times I screamed "TRUUUUUUUUUUUUCK" through tears, she would not get it down for me. Is she deaf?

Looks like I'm short a Goldbug, now.

As she returned to the closet to finish the task of shirt selection (why is she so slow?), I seized my opportunity to select a pair of sandals to wear today. You can tell me it's only 45 degrees outside, all you want. Fashion is fashion and I had no plans to wear sneakers or pants. My vision today was to pull a Henry.

But guess who doesn't care about vision or my creative spirit? Guess who only gave me a choice between jeans or pink cotton pants and didn't even offer a pants free option? Guess whose only compromise was that I could wear sandals if I put socks under them?

This is quite possibly the grossest
suggestion my mom has ever given.

I had no choice. I pushed my mom aside with a firm and proud, "No Mama! Go away!" and started begging for Miss Susan. What a relief it was to finally be dropped at the learning center this morning. Sometimes, a girl just needs a hug (and some pancakes) from her favorite teacher.

Take it from The Bear and Will Smith
Parents just don't understand.
Also, is that DJ Jazzy Jeff in the blue wig?

 

 

 

Love's First Kiss

I'm sure that the Conor/Bear/Ben love triangle is getting old for my readers by now, but there have been some major developments that I would be remiss to ignore in my writings.

As heart breaking as Conor's recent move was, it gave me the chance to reflect, have a little time to just be the Bear and decide what I really wanted in a partner. I wanted someone who would be kind and thoughtful and who would at least try to impress me. When I returned to the learning center after being sick, I found those things in Ben.  

My first day back, he sat next to me, gave me a hug and fed me Cheerios at breakfast. My second day back, as his car passed mine at drop off, he threw his pacifier on the floor (signaling to me that he was ready to grow up) while pointing to me and saying my name over and over to his dad.

Finally, on my third day back, while we were waiting in line to wash our hands before breakfast, Ben kissed me on the forehead. I saw stars. I'm still buzzing. We have sat together for every meal and circle time since that moment. This relationship feels so good and so easy. I can't believe we waited so long.  

In addition to kissing and sharing food,
Ben and I also share an interest in glaring at and judging other toddlers.

A lady has "an upset stomach," not diarrhea and vomiting

Ugh. Being sick is the worst. Soiled clothing, leaving the learning center early and don't get me started on the bulimia rumors, just because I evacuated my stomach's contents shortly after lunch.

My mom got the call to pick me up at the beginning of nap time and by the time she arrived, most of the toddlers were awake, though still politely laying on their cots, listening to soothing music. The exception, of course, was Julian. Rather than respecting everyone's need to simmer down for awhile, he was skipping cot to cot and peaking in everyone's face to see if they were truly asleep. He was quickly picked up and placed in my nap crib (with recently changed sheets) so that he could be contained. At that point, he totally lost his cool and woke up the remaining nappers. Most obnox.

The only bright spot in the otherwise murky day was that I was given all the Pedialyte and Pixar I could handle when I got home. In case you were wondering, all the Pixar I could handle equals about 10 minutes of me pointing to Flick and Ada saying "Hi bug!" over and over until I decided I'd rather play with stickers.

Have you seen the first 10 minutes of
A Bug's Life? Captivating.