Wednesday, February 18, 2009
The baton has been handed down. Molly has officially taken over from Frankie the nickname 'Little Terror' or, if you are feeling extra affectionate, 'Lil' T.' As you can see above, she has little fear, and if left to her own devices will climb things, balance precariously, walk with forks, lick outlets, etc. Her newest trick is to take off her own diaper THROUGH her sleeper. I am not sure how she does it, but during naps or if left alone for a few minutes, she will wrangle that disposable off her body and deposit it in the right leg of her pajamas. As one might imagine, the result can be catastrophic.
She has also decided that being put in her crib is simply not for her. I have a hard time with this development because up until the moment of deposit on the mattress, she is pure luscious coziness. She goes from a bundle of fleece-clad happiness, limply nestled in my neck, to shrieking wildly, rigid with fury. The other night, she woke up to nurse in the middle of the night, something she thankfully does rarely, and then refused to go back to bed. I can't really blame her, it was infinitely cozier spooning with me, but she stood in her crib and yelled for forty-five minutes until Dean gave up and took her in bed with him in the guest room. She sacked out next to him for a few hours until he was awakened by the sensation of tiny plump baby lips kissing him gently. He opened his eyes to find her sitting next to him, leaning forward one moment to deliver her buss, sitting back proudly the next to clap quietly. Three times she gently kissed his lips and applauded herself. And lets face it, she may be a terror, but can you think of a better way to wake up?