|Mirror mirror on the wall, who has the most potentially talented baby of all?|
Did you know it's the ancient art of Kindergarteners kicking off spring break? Because it is, complete with me hiding in the bathroom while Sundance yells, "Mom, come on down," into the mike.
Probably just gonna hide here behind the toilet paper reserves for a while.
Don't get me wrong, I love having all four hooligans home with me, but there has been an increase in questions and one too many observations about how I'm aging.
Not to mention, my special stash of Fiber One bars keep disappearing, the M&Ms are gone, and I've refereed an amount of fights that would make Mike Tyson uncomfortable. All in all though, things are pointing toward the promise of warmer weather and everything that comes with it.
Open that pool.
Bring on the flip flops.
Make the baby self sufficient.
Have I mentioned how much we love the Little Lady? She's both fat and sassy. I'm constantly torn between enjoying her babyness and willing her to do things besides chew on her own feet. The one thing that really astounds me is how excited I still get when one of our offspring learns how to do new things. I'm actually fairly annoying about it.
Me: Well, would you look at that?
Me: The baby, she's smiling!
Husband: Mmm hmm.
Me: How can you be so nonchalant?
Husband: Hasn't she been doing that for like a month?
Me: Three months and two days, but it's such a relief. The other ones frown at me so much, it's nice to know her facial muscles work and that her amount of disdain for us may be more of a three on a scale of one-to-ten, rather than the seven the other kids are running at.
Hope springs eternal with every new child you bring into your home. It's why the smiles, the cooing, and the flailing when they see a ceiling fan are so endearing. This one is keeping up with the pack, you tell yourself. This one likes me. This one will bring home the Nobel Prize for pioneering self-cleaning water so my existence hasn't been in vain.
She will never be in a bad mood.
She will clean her toys without being told.
She will pick my nursing home.
Last night, Husband I laid on the bed, the baby between us while we hashed out the day's events.
"So, we were really busy, but the traffic wasn't too-"
I held up a hand. "Shhh."
"Did you not see it?" I asked. "She rolled all the way over."
He shook his head. "No, but I believe you. All the kids do it."
I let out a frustrated sigh and motioned to the baby. "But this was different. She's rolling towards greatness. I can feel it. She has dreams, and those chubby, little hands are reeeeeaching out for them. Maybe she'll become a chess master, or make longer documentaries than Ken Burns."
Husband shrugged and sat up. "Or she's rolling away from you."
"Just like the rest of them," I agreed.
A moment of silence passed between us before Husband ruffled the baby's freakishly full head of hair and headed for the door. "Well, I should probably go downstairs."
"All three of the others learned how to roll, run and dismantle, years ago. And it's way too quiet down there."
"Right. But that's old news." I grabbed the baby before she could move toward the edge of the bed. "Let me know if they've rolled anywhere near my Fiber One bars though. I have a suspicion the three-year-old's to blame. Kid's been way more regular than the rest of the house."
Kidding myself is a favorite pastime. I'm well aware the Little Lady will soon join the melee that is kid fights and climbing inside kitchen cabinets to chew on rouge packets of taco seasoning. I've got a rag-tag group, but this year has been filled with people learning to read and others taking themselves to the bathroom at 2am. Life's pretty good. I just want them to leave me some M&Ms.
Now, if you'll excuse me, the 4pm Karaoke session is about to start. I'm on in five. Be sure to tip your waitress.
Until Next Time, Readers!
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