You May Find Mali in a Box on Your Doorstep
As cute as my little bugger is, she is five chunky, clunky, bouncy little steps away from being put in a basket and hung from the tallest tree in our yard. I can't take the no-sleepy for much longer, even with Seymour and me trading off nights coaxing Mali to sleep. Even though the last thing she says as she snuggles into my shoulder after 30+ minutes of flailing in the dark next to me is, "Mommy loves me." Even though she's this darling:
Originally uploaded by Squid Rosenberg.
It has been six years since I've dealt with a typical two-year-old, and four years since Leelo turned two--but since Leelo is really only now showing features of this gleefully defiant, not quite articulate stage, I'm already very much over thinking tantrums are amusing. I will try to be chipper and avoid being too flinty with her, and will hope that she continues to entertain me. She'd better keep doing shit like this:
(Going on the Freeway, without being told where we're going, and being correct)
"Mama! We're going to see Dr. M, Mama!"
(As the Dr. appointment is ending, unprompted, and to Dr. M's delight)
"Bye bye, Dr. M! See you later"
(After being left out of too many sessions of Iz's hide-and-seek game, even though hyper-observant Mali is better at finding hiders than her non-observant sister)
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 ... 15 ... I'm counting! Ready or not, here I come!"
And I've forgotten a bunch more but you get the picture. Today she even announced, "I'm tired, Mama," which hopefully means she's getting a greater sense of her sleep needs. Hopefully those needs will start meshing better with those of her loving but very tired parents.