One step forward, three steps back…We had been having a really good streak, a solid week of good behaviour, with an occasion 4 year old moment, but nothing notable. Then it hit the fan.

Grace had a very naughty night last night. I’m growing pretty immune to her declarations that she wants a new Mommy, that prefers friend x’s Mommy over me. But she is now getting more creative with her barbs. She expressed to Jonas that she was going to throw a toy at him so hard that he would go hospital and then he wouldn’t be able to be the boss of her anymore. She lost her t.v. privileges first, then her book at bedtime, and she then lost her favourite thing, which is when Jo or I tell her a story about when we were little. For the first time in her almost five years, she went to bed with nothing, not even a cuddle. I did throw out a “love you” just so she didn’t feel totally stripped. Some days are just so damn hard.

Smackdown!

So, Edie has started hitting. It’s not quite as hard as Grace used to hit, and I guess now that I’m a little bit more seasoned in the parenting department, it’s not as shocking as I used to find it. I remember losing sleep over Gracie’s hitting habits, thinking that hitting was the blueprint for a life of crime; that surely no good could come from a child who dared raise their hand in an act of violence. Now I have a little bit more perspective on the issue. Two months shy of being 2 years old, Edie has a very limited vocabulary (no, shoe, yeah, baba, doh-doh and bum being her favourites). Rather than being able to express herself in a civilized manner (“Actually, mother, father, I would rather not dine in my high chair tonight, I am feeling a little under the weather and would just like to relax on the couch with a bottle and Baby Einstein”), Edie raises her little hand and gives us an oh so gentle smack to let us know she is not happy.

What amazes me the most is Grace’s reaction to be on the receiving end of the smack. Being a physical person and reformed hitter, I thought for sure Grace would just hit back, but she takes it, doesn’t even flinch. She’s not happy about it and certainly thinks Edie should be timed out, but that is the extent of her outrage. I’m pretty proud of her for her restraint.

Help me Mall Santa!

So, Grace is very calm about Christmas this year. Grace knows that Santa is going to get her what she wants, and it is very big. Grace doesn’t need to tell Mommy or Daddy what it is she wants, because she already told Santa. Grace doesn’t need to write a letter to Santa because, well, she already told him when she was at the mall with her Grandmother, so why would she need to tell him again? Best part? Santa PROMISED that the big gift would be under the tree. Also, there’s a new rule, you can’t tell anybody what you ask Santa for, because then you might not get it (“it’s just like making a wish Mommy!) So. Do I go back to the mall, describe my little girl to him (“you MUST remember, she sat on your lap, she 4 years old, light brown hair, cut into a bob, pink Barbie boot, you must remember! How many girls look like that? What did she ask for dammit!!!)
I have a feeling there may be some s’plaining to do on Christmas day……

Ahhhh-choo!…

Our house should be quarantined. There is no guarantee that if you enter our home, that you will leave without being afflicted by some medical atrocity (well, okay, it’s the common cold, but it really sucks!) Edie and I are in this mother-daughter dance of pass the ickiest germs to each other. She had it four weeks ago, then I caught it, then I caught it again, and yesterday, Edie succumbed once again, this time with special effects (snot spray anyone?) Well played, Edie, well played. Not sure how Grace and Jonas are being spared, Grace probably makes sport of dodging airborne germs matrix-style.

*There one nice thing about Edie being sick: when she needs some comfort at night, she curls right up into a fetal position in your arms like a little hot water bottle - feels like she's a teeny little baby once again, and not a (gasp) almost two year old.

Playing with Fire, I Mean Water

Items upstairs:

-musical Winnie the Pooh wagon with blocks
-shopping cart filled with fake food
-LittleTykes pic-nic table with a box of colouring books and crayons at your disposal
-a kajillion puzzles
-a bazillion books
-umpteen toys that flash, ring bells and whistle
-T.V., with a Mommy and Daddy who are usually willing to put it on TreeHouse
-art easle with chalk board

......the list goes on, you get the idea.

What do Grace and Edie want to do the most? Well, it’s a toss up between playing in the kitchen sink and playing in fridge, RIGHT WHEN I WANT TO MAKE DINNER! Grace I can easily reason with and coax into another activity. Edie on the other hand, with her new discovery of her MiniGo supplier and our water source, is much more difficult to navigate out of the way without a blood curdling scream. I don’t know what frustrates me more, a screaming toddler or perpetually wet socks from her playing in the sink.