Momnesia

Still Life With Toddler

Emerson is being a turd tonight. She is just refusing to go to sleep.
"I wan' new boot," she says, after four books have already been tossed aside.
"Honey, we've already read four books - that's two more than usual. Now it's time to go sleepies," I tell her gently. We hug and smooch and I tuck her in.
"I not go sleepies," she says, with a grin.
"That's fine. Just lay here with your eyes closed," I say.
"I not close-a-eyes." she says.
"Okay. I'm going to close the door, now. I love you."
"I lub you, too, Mama. I not go sleepies."
"Goodnight."

I settle into the couch with my book, and I sometimes hear her singing to herself. But I don't hear her feet pounding back and forth across the floor, so I let it go. But then I hear the door open.
"Mama? I hafta go potty!"
"Oh, good girl!" I take her hand and we go into the bathroom. "I have to go poo-poo!" she informs me.
And yet, she accomplishes nothing.
I chase her around trying to get a diaper on her. She puts her hand up in my face: "No! I do it!"
And I offer her the option of diaper or time out. Surprise! Diaper wins.

And then we get back to her bed and spend some time snuggling and smooching. "I mate a poo-poo!" she says. She lies. She's just trying to get out of bed.

There's a lot of smooching. Is this starting to sound inappropriate? Do all mothers and daughters smooch each other this much? Whatever. It's awesome that she's so affectionate.

She smooches me again, hard, and holds it, her eyes wide open. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmwwah!"
"Thank you!" I gush.
"NO!" she shrieks. "Say bleh!"
I laugh and pretend to have eaten something gross.
"EEEwwww! Blech! Bleh bleh bleh! Pfft! Patooey!"
She cackles and smooches me again, then pulls the routine herself, rolling her eyes and wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
"Okay, honey. That's enough."
"Wait!" she grabs my cheeks and looks intensely into my eyes. "Lithen! I hab to teyyou sumping."
"What?"
She leans in as though to whisper something in my ear... and licks me!
"Gahhhh!" I shriek, while she collapses in laughter. "Sick!"
She pats my cheek. "I sooorry, Mama. You wanna big hud?"
We lean in to hug... and she licks me again!
"Ahhh! Stop that, cookoo!" I shriek, while she rolls around on the bed, ridiculously pleased with herself. When she stops belly-laughing, I tickle her a sec.
"Okay, sweetie. It's time to go-"
"WAIT!" she shrieks, grabbing the sides of my face again. "Lithen! I hab to-"
"Oh, no! I don't think so!"
She guffaws, but refuses to let go. "No, lithen!" she shrieks, millimeters from my nose. "Lithen! I hab to teyyou sumping!"
I grab her face and lick her from from cheek to her forehead to her other cheek. She falls, face-first, on her pillow, laughing so hard she can hardly breathe.
"Mama! No lick me!"
"You no lick me!"
We snuggle for a minute, and then I tuck her in again, promising to leave the door open a crack.

I settle back down on the couch with my book, and 20 seconds later, Scrabble starts to bark his head off.
"FRABBLE! HUSH UP!" she shrieks from her darkened bedroom.
"That's enough, Emmie. Be nice," I scold, and get up to look out the window.
"I sooorry, Frabble," she calls.
It's Scott, home from a dinner with friends. He comes in and booms his radio voice all over the house.
"Daddeeeeeee!" Emmie shrieks from the doorway of her bedroom.
"Hey, all yours!" I call, merrily. He grins and goes in to soothe her.

Ten minutes later they come out.
"She's got a poo-poo," he says. Ah. She fooled him, too.
Instead, she clambers up in my lap and lays down with her head on my shoulder.
"Less sit onda couch and watch teebee," she says.
Scott turns the television off and leaves us for a few minutes while we snuggle.
"Close your eyes, sweetheart," I tell her, and she does, covering her eyes with her left hand. She did the same thing as an infant, when she was sleeping during the day.
Scott comes back in, munching on a granola bar. Emmie hears him and sits up.
"You hab a cookee?" she asks, and climbs down from my lap, to clamber up into his. She sits on his lap, facing him. "You like a cookee?" she asks.
"Mmmhmm," he says, his mouth full.
"I wan sum," she says. "Pwease?"
He gives her a bite while I try to contain my laughter.
"MMmm! I lub it," she says. "Iss good!"
He take a bite and offers her another one.
"I wan hode it," she says, cocking her head to the side and furrowing her brow.
"Ohh, no," he says, while I laugh harder. "I hold it."
She takes the bite he offers.
"MMmm! I lub it. You lub it, too?" she asks.
"It's good," he replies, amused.
She gets most of the granola bar, and then asks for a popsicle.
"Oh, no. It's time for sleepies," I tell her. Scott fills her cup with apple juice and we tuck her back in.
"Dank oo, Daddy," she says as her nudges the cup into a crook between the bars. "I lub yoo, Daddy. I lub yoo, Mama."

We smooch her good night, and she stays this time.
Part of me wishes she hadn't.

But she drifted off to sleep in just a few minutes, stuffed white bunny clutched tightly to her chest, one ear lolling over her eyes.
I think she put it there on purpose.