More adventures from The Small One

Who is getting to be not so small! Not sure I like that plan!

This morning, once again arising earlier than I prefer, The Small One announced that it was time to get up. Not only was it time to get up, but she had to go potty. Normally, she is quite capable of going potty by herself, but it was a rather darkish morning and the lights weren't on. I groaned, not wanting to get up as I had a rather sleepless night. She was demanding. But...ah, blessed baby. She wanted Daddy to be the one to come help her. Hallelujah! At least from my point of view. Not from his. Lazy beggar didn't want to get up either.

After going potty, she returned to the bedroom, where she spied my bottle of Powerade. I don't particularly like Powerade, but I was stricken with a dehydration headache last night, so got Powerade instead of water for the bedside. Over trots The Small One, picks up the bottle and looks me straight in the eye. Dis my juice. Okay, you can have it. Dis MY juice. It for me. Not for Mamma. Fine, you naughty stinker, take the juice. And again, with finger pointed my direction, for emphasis. Dis my juice. You not cannot hab any. And turning on her heel, she marches out of the room. Ah, my sweet, generous, sharing baby. Not.

We read scriptures and say prayers at night and The Small One is learning how to do it herself. The other morning, she climbed into bed with me, grabbed my Scriptures and opened them. I will read scritures to you, Mamma. Ok, baby, that would be nice. She flips a couple of pages, settles back into the pillow and says, An it came a pass, (blah, blah, nonsense words), an it came a pass, (more nonsense words) and it came a pass! I all done! With that, she shut the book, got down and went to watch Spongebob.
You should hear her say her prayers. Let me tell you, this kid is grateful for EVERYTHING!

She is becoming more and more independent by the day. Somehow or another, she figured out how to buckle her carseat buckle, but it takes FOREVER for her to do so. Then I get frustrated that she is taking so long and try to "help" her. Thanks, but no thanks, she does not need (want) help! So, as we are getting ready to leave a parking lot, my mom, in the passenger seat, turns around to help The Small One buckle up. NO! DON"T BUCKLE MY DOTTOM!!!!! Yeah, she didn't want help buckling the bottom buckle. I tried to warn my mom, but alas, she would not listen. But now I tell The Small One to behave or I will spank her dottom. She looks quizzically at me when I say that, because, you know, the little folk hear themselves saying the word correctly, but when you mimic them, they just don't get it. Silly baby.

Well, if I can get my battery charged and download my camera, the next post will contain photos and video. You are sure to get a laugh!

Tootle

The Small One refused to take a nap today. This is happening with increasing regularity, which does NOT make me happy. She is far too young, in my humble opinion (and mine is the only one that matters), to be discontinuing her naps. Her naps are my free time, my quiet time, the time during the day in which I am allowed to work. If she gives up her naps, I could conceivable lose this time. This is a daunting idea. Of course, there is always quiet time, but this is something The Small One has a difficult time with. She is not good at the quiet. But, come on! She isn't even two and a half yet and wants to give up naptime? Although, my mother says she is two going on five, what with the way she talks and struts about the place. There is certainly something to be said about the confidence of The Small One.

Anyhow, so she refused her nap, which, come evening time, left her very tired and a bit cranky. I did not want to let her go to bed too early, because then she will wake up too early and, as I am sure to have mentioned before, I do not like to get up early. I also do not like to make The Man of the House get up too early on the weekends, as he does it during the week. Point being, if The Small One gets up early on the weekend, I have to get up with her.

The Man of the House, being the chivalrous gent that he is, went over to the church to print off the monthly Church Newsletter for me as I prefer not to be in the church alone at night. Creepy. So, I remained behind to put The Small One to bed. She whined piteously at me that she was ready for bed, so I asked her if she wanted her jammies. She did. Off she trotted to the nursery to find them. I clothed her in her nightwear and asked if she would like to go to bed now. She said yes. So, I took her and laid her in bed. She sat up. "I need my Tootle!" Your what? I queried. "My Tootle! I need my Tootle!" Your Tootle? I queried again, perplexed. "My Tootle! My dog!" Ah, now I understand. She needs her little stuffed poodle that Memma gave her yesterday. Her Toodle. I rousted out said Toodle, gave it to The Small One, she said thank you (unfailingly polite, she is) rolled over and went to sleep.

P.S. Would you like to know the names of her other dollies and things? Of course you would!
She has several dollies (not babies, so don't call them that and don't refer to her as their Mamma. She doesn't like it) They are named-Georgina, Alsatia, Blue and Purple. The other two don't have names.
She has two kitties, Grey and Tabby.
She has a Kangaroo named Pop.
And now she has a Poodle called Toodle.

Oh, and we cannot forget Torres, the Wonder Pup. He is one of those little soft lovies that babies have.