Steve the Director: Hi, Kristie! Hey, we're really starting to notice that Ava has some really strong leadership tendencies emerging!
Me (in my head): Uh-oh...
Me (out loud): HAHAHAHAHAHA is that what you call it?
Steve the Director (in his head) (probably): WONDER WHERE SHE GETS IT, LADY.
Steve the Director (out loud): HAHAHAHAHAHA that IS what we call it! Today, before playtime, she made sure everybody had their shoes on and then she walked at the head of the line because she knew where they were going!
Me (in my head): Oh those poor kids...
Me (out loud): Well we're going to have to "cultivate" that in a "positive manner" now aren't we? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Steve the Director (in his head): OMG lady kids like yours either go on to invent Google or they become criminal masterminds with legions of minions at their command.
Steve the Director (out loud): We call that "channeling"! And yes, we will have to be sure to help her develop that skill!
I love Steve the Director. Really, he's awesome. He quacked a toy duck in Ava's face when she was about 5 months old, and she seriously did not even acknowledge him for a year after that. He has busted himself trying to get her to forgive him. She's just now getting back to where he exists in her world. Daycare providers do the work of the lord, that's for sure.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
So, what happens when Ava skips a nap?
I'm flying solo this weekend. Rob's at his annual fantasy football draft/golf/manapalooza in San Diego, so I very purposefully sought out Meaningful Activities that are Fraught with Redeeming Social Value. Quite frankly, the idea of waking up to a completely unscheduled blank slate of a day with Ava scared the hell out of me. So we went here as I had it on good authority that it would be a great way to spend an hour or two.
It was awesome. SO perfect. Seriously, Ava scampered around the place like it was where she had spent the last twenty months waiting for us to take her there. They have a stage with a whole wall full of dress-up clothes. They have bubble tables and mazes big enough to walk through, and a mock classroom and grocery store and so many wonderful things for her to explore. Yeah, it's located at the corner of Crack and Ho, but I suppose that's part of the whole experience.
So we got there at 10, right when they opened, so it wasn't crowded. We stayed for an hour and 15 minutes, and that put us home right on track for lunch and nap. She ate a gigungous lunch, yawning and rubbing her eyes the whole time, and I figured that one hour of scampering and frolicking would lead to three hours of hardcore napping.
WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.
For nearly an hour, she just chilled in her crib, talking to Elmo and Monkey and Bear and Other Bear, and then she was ready to not be in her crib. She fussed with increasing intensity, and I knew that the three hour nap was not in the cards. When I gave up and went in to assess, she was standing in the middle of her crib like Hannibal Lecter when Clarice first meets him. No sign of any distress or displeasure. Just. Standing. There.
OK fine, little girly-girl. No nap today. Let's go run some errands, as maybe a ride in the car will lull you to sleep.
Nope, nope nope nope. She chattered gaily to the guy at the cleaners and was the life of the party at Target. We got back to the house at 4:30, and that's when she started to get twitchy. Any kid of mine is going to have a short fuse, but man, today from about 5:00 on, she was a freaking land mine. Her eyes were so sleepy. She had big awful dark circles (yeah, she gets that from me, too...).
At 6:00, she went feral. She was so tired, she couldn't even walk straight, but when she'd fall over it made her giggle, so she'd do it on purpose (I'm debating whether to google that behavior to see if it's normal, but I'm afraid of what I might find).
Since I'm evidently new to this "mom" thing, I thought maybe a bath would help her relax. Oh dear God. I once tried to wash our cat when I was little. Jughead was angry on a good day, and evidently being bathed was a direct indictment of her self-cleaning abilities. Today, Jughead looked up from Cat Hell with one smug green eye, and mrowred with victorious condescension as she bowed to the new Empress of DON'T PUT ME IN THE GODDAMN BATHTUB.
At 6:45, dried, pajama'd and cuddled, Ava put herself to bed, an hour and fifteen minutes early. I truly believe that she figured she had put me through quite enough.
It was awesome. SO perfect. Seriously, Ava scampered around the place like it was where she had spent the last twenty months waiting for us to take her there. They have a stage with a whole wall full of dress-up clothes. They have bubble tables and mazes big enough to walk through, and a mock classroom and grocery store and so many wonderful things for her to explore. Yeah, it's located at the corner of Crack and Ho, but I suppose that's part of the whole experience.
So we got there at 10, right when they opened, so it wasn't crowded. We stayed for an hour and 15 minutes, and that put us home right on track for lunch and nap. She ate a gigungous lunch, yawning and rubbing her eyes the whole time, and I figured that one hour of scampering and frolicking would lead to three hours of hardcore napping.
WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.
For nearly an hour, she just chilled in her crib, talking to Elmo and Monkey and Bear and Other Bear, and then she was ready to not be in her crib. She fussed with increasing intensity, and I knew that the three hour nap was not in the cards. When I gave up and went in to assess, she was standing in the middle of her crib like Hannibal Lecter when Clarice first meets him. No sign of any distress or displeasure. Just. Standing. There.
OK fine, little girly-girl. No nap today. Let's go run some errands, as maybe a ride in the car will lull you to sleep.
Nope, nope nope nope. She chattered gaily to the guy at the cleaners and was the life of the party at Target. We got back to the house at 4:30, and that's when she started to get twitchy. Any kid of mine is going to have a short fuse, but man, today from about 5:00 on, she was a freaking land mine. Her eyes were so sleepy. She had big awful dark circles (yeah, she gets that from me, too...).
At 6:00, she went feral. She was so tired, she couldn't even walk straight, but when she'd fall over it made her giggle, so she'd do it on purpose (I'm debating whether to google that behavior to see if it's normal, but I'm afraid of what I might find).
Since I'm evidently new to this "mom" thing, I thought maybe a bath would help her relax. Oh dear God. I once tried to wash our cat when I was little. Jughead was angry on a good day, and evidently being bathed was a direct indictment of her self-cleaning abilities. Today, Jughead looked up from Cat Hell with one smug green eye, and mrowred with victorious condescension as she bowed to the new Empress of DON'T PUT ME IN THE GODDAMN BATHTUB.
At 6:45, dried, pajama'd and cuddled, Ava put herself to bed, an hour and fifteen minutes early. I truly believe that she figured she had put me through quite enough.
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