We know when we're being patronized. Really.

A couple of weeks ago, we were encouraging Ava to eat her dinner, and she confirmed once again that she is, without question, our kid. She took an over-size bite of her pasta, held it in her mouth for a minute, and then she said "MMMMMMMMMMMMMM" like "this is the shittiest thing I've ever had put on a plate in front of me, but on the off chance there's ice cream for dessert, I'll play along".

It's been happening with some regularity.  Tonight, we got it on video.

I'm really not sure how she learned sarcasm at such a young age.  I wasn't expecting this until she was at least, oh, I don't know, 10?  Maybe 8.  Not freaking two and a half.

Rob and I both need to learn how not to laugh when she calls our bluffs.  We'll be sailing merrily along with our gold-star parenting, and she'll bust out with some random thing--like waving her little fist and yelling "Jackass!" when Rob honked (justifiably) at a car that cut him off.  I don't know WHERE she picked THAT up (shut up).  He got home and told me that story, and I just howled.  Everyone who has heard that story has just HOWLED.  Because a two-year-old using the word "jackass" in the proper context?  Never not funny.

Remind me that it's funny when she teaches her friends this same funny little stuff.  HARDY HAR HAR.

"Close your eyes, mama!"

Ava has this funny new game, in which she demands that her opponent close his/her eyes. She then waits a beat to make sure the eyes are closed ("CLOSE EYES MAMA CLOSE EYES") and then she gets right up close and blows a raspberry, and then she laughs maniacally.

It's a very accurate representation of what life with Ava is like lately. The stuff she comes up with just astonishes us. I don't even know how many words she knows at this point. She speaks in sentences and describes where she is, what she's doing, what she wants to do, and what she thinks everybody else needs to do as well. Her daily reports from daycare have become so diplomatic: "Today, Ava put everybody down for naps over and over again. She had so much fun! Most of the other kids did too... for a while..." Yikes. I think this is a nice way of telling me that my kid managed to convince a dozen other two-year-olds that it's just easier if they do what she says.

Christmas was a Very Big Deal at our house this year. Last year, we just sort of posed her like a doll in front of decorations. This year, she KNEW. She knew Santa Claus was coming, although I don't think she knew what that meant until Christmas morning when saw the presents in the living room. She learned some Christmas songs--there's this great version of Jingle Bells by Frank Sinatra that she wanted to hear over and over until I just COULD NOT BEAR ANOTHER MOMENT OF IT. But I'd play it because she'd sing along. Best Christmas ever. EVER.

Next up is her birthday. She's going to be TWO YEARS OLD in two weeks. I just can't believe it. We have a two-year-old. I remember thinking how hard it was those first weeks, when she was so small. We had no idea what we were doing. We still don't, but we're better at getting help when we needed it. I recently asked my Posse of Ninja Moms about how to implement Time Outs. Yeah, that's where we are. Discipline is now the order of the day. Ava gets frustrated and angry (GOSH I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE GETS THAT SHUT UP) and she will hit whoever or whatever is closest. Usually, it's me. She's got a pretty good arm, but we want to help her learn to use her powers for good and not evil, so we had to step up and be parents and now, she's starting to realize that if she hits anyone she's in Time Out, no matter where we are. If she's not listening, or sassing (seriously, a 2-year-old, sassing? YES.) then she gets a 3-count, and then she's in Time Out. I mocked the idea of Time Out, because it just seems so pointless and passive. But it works. We've been doing it for maybe 2 weeks, and damn you SuperNanny, you know what you're doing. It may not work forever, but it works for now and we'll take it.

I'm home this week, and Ava was at daycare Monday and yesterday so I could take care of some bidness and run some errands, but she's home with me today and tomorrow, and I love it. I love taking her places because she's so damn cute and people just smile when they see her. She's so much fun, 99% of the time. The remaining 1% is, well, I guess, that's parenting.

The Rainbow Connection

When Ava was Very Very Small, we discovered that she liked it when we sang songs while rocking her to sleep. So we began to expand our repertoire of Songs that Can Be Lullabies. Really, slow any song down, and it can lull a baby to sleep.

We kept coming back to one song. I didn't even know that I knew this one all the way through, but evidently when it's 2AM and you're grasping at lullaby straws, you find treasures at the bottom of the barrel. Ava's go-to lullaby is The Rainbow Connection. I've sung it (...doing quick math... 22 months times 4 weeks per month times 7 nights per week... equals....) one billion times now.

A couple of months ago, she starting humming along. She recognized it when it came on in the car (it's on my iPod because it's awesome; see also "Bein' Green" and "C is for Cookie"). This morning, after we hit the Maximum Number of TV Shows For a Toddler (two in a row...) I turned on music so she could dance. The first song on the Pandora station? The Rainbow Connection.





I KNOW.

She's learning songs at school, and she really does love to sing. She knows Baa Baa Black Sheep, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, ABCs (my whole life, it didn't occur to me that these were the same melody, thank you Mozart.), Itsy Bitsy Spider, and so many more that surprise us (um, Paparazzi by Lady Gaga? Boogie Shoes? Check.).

This week we had our first Official Parent Conference. Holy Nervousness, Batman. I mean, I know she's brilliant, but do others realize it? Yes, apparently they do:

"Ava has a growing sense of independence. She is always trying something new and is very, very smart. Ava is quick to figure things out for herself. Ava has a very close relationship with Ms A and Ms A, but gets along well with the other teachers she knows. Ava is a very popular child, smart and talking, with all her peers. She is very well liked."

There are a couple of euphemisms in there, I know. "Quick to figure things out for herself" has been previously discussed here. "Gets along well with the teachers she knows" may be interpreted as "utterly disregards those teachers she does not know". And don't even get me started on "very very smart". Two words, my friends: Criminal Mastermind.

They also sent us home with a binder full of the milestones she hits, according to their curriculum blah blah blah. So all that time I spent guilting about how I stopped doing the baby book in February 09? Wasted time, that. They did it for me. Awesome.

Fashionista

There are some battles that I just don't have time for.

Today, Ava is wearing red socks with pink crocs, and the red socks SHOW. Whether it matches the rest of her outfit (it totally doesn't) just doesn't matter. Ava and I have come to an agreement on the process of getting dressed in the morning. I lay out her clothing options the night before--two pairs of pants, two tops. That is all. If we open the drawer in the morning when time is short, then we run the risk of, um, disagreeing about what actually gets worn.

Case in point: The Butterfly Shirt. If Ava sees the yellow shirt with the butterfly on it, then THAT IS WHAT SHE SHALL WEAR AND THERE IS NO FURTHER DISCUSSION. She will not wear a jacket over the butterfly shirt, making it no longer an option now that it's chilly outside. The butterfly shirt lives at the bottom of the drawer until spring (as butterflies should, I would think).

So we can negotiate tops and bottoms. That's cool. I can handle that. But the lady has very strong feelings about her footwear. She won't negotiate. She has lots of shoes, too (don't judge me...) so there's really no way to predict what will be acceptable. The shoes are in a bin in the closet, making them very easy to put away at the end of the day, but also making them very accessible in the mornings. And the socks are right there in the side pocket of the hanging thing (just go with me on this one) so I can grab a pair quickly.

This morning, we successfully got everyone dressed with very little discussion. This is a victory, because I really haven't mastered the necessary technique for wrestling an angry wombat into a pair of little jeans. I pulled out her very cool Snoopy New Balance Sneakers and she lost her freaking mind. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO" *stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp stomp throw self down on floor* (seriously, I'm going to video the next time she does this and submit it to the Academy for their consideration in the Best Performance By a Toddler Who Does Not Want To Wear The Snoopy Shoes category).

So I pause, and envision where this fits in the Grand Scheme of Things.

"OK. Come pick your shoes and socks." And it's like I'm her Fairy Godmother and I just bibbidy-bobbidy-boo'd her a fancy pumpkin coach. She wipes her hair out of her eyes, takes a moment to compose herself, and with much gusto and aplomb, announces her selections as she makes them. "PINK SHOES YAY! WED TOCKS! YAY!"

Yay, indeed.

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.

The Lady Does Not Wish To Be Bothered.

Today at daycare, Ava bit another child.

OMG.

The backstory is funny, though. The Assistant Director and her teacher both could barely contain their laughter when they told me. She was provoked, make no mistake.

The alleged victim, whose name has been withheld from me, as Ava's name has been withheld from the alleged victim's parents, allegedly was being kind of clingy (already, at this point in the story, my suspicions about who the alleged victim allegedly is are in place). Said alleged victim was allegedly all up in Ava's business, allegedly hanging on to her shirt, allegedly touching her face (really, who doesn't hate that?), allegedly ignoring the pleas, nay, insistent demands, of the suspect to BACK THE HELL OFF. The suspect made no secret of her displeasure at being jostled in such a manner. She allegedly hollered. She allegedly stomped her feet. She allegedly made it ABUNDANTLY CLEAR THAT SHE WAS NOT AMUSED BY ANY OF THESE TOUCHY-FEELY SHENANIGANS.

And yet, the alleged victim persisted.

Ava allegedly bit the alleged victim on the alleged pinky finger. No skin was broken. The whole alleged incident allegedly lasted not even a minute.

As the alleged victim was extricated from the suspect, the suspect's only reaction was indignation. It was obvious, apparently, that she didn't WANT to bite the alleged victim. She TRIED to warn the victim. As the victim's injured pinky was treated with an icy boo-boo buddy, the suspect looked with bewilderment at the adult witnesses in attendance, frustrated by her lack of words.

One can only imagine what those words might have been.

All kidding aside, my immediate concern was "oh dear, my child is now that kid." The AD assured me that in many circumstances, yes, a deliberate chomping would be cause for alarm. But this? The two ladies looked at each other, looked at Ava, and looked at me. They agreed, "well, she DID try to warn her."

This is the first week in which we've gotten two incident reports to sign. The first one was on Monday, where she hit herself in the head as she "was exploring the sensory bottles". In layman's terms, she was playing with a plastic bottle that had been filled with water and sealed, and she bonked herself on the head probably 3 times before she got pissed off at the bottle. Her reaction when they were checking her for injury? Inconvenience. That's what they told me: "Ava just seemed to be inconvenienced by our concern."

Oh goody. Where does a 16-month-old child learn inconvenience and indignation?

Certainly, she didn't get it from me...