AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I can almost feel all of the frustration leave my body as I exhale. Avery is in bed and Morgan is watching Ponies. But things weren't always so quiet. No, no things were much, much louder for the last few hours straight. Avery threw tantrum after tantrum because she was overtired. She didn't nap much, and believe me, that makes for one insane baby later in the day. Morgan can look at Avery the wrong way and it causes the floodgates to open. Avery could trip, drop her milk, get bumped by a dog, or even look at me and the tears rushed forth. Seriously? And I'm not exaggerating. It was every ten minutes for 2ish hours. For those of you who don't have kids and think, "2 hours is nothing!" I challenge you to heat up a meat poker and stab it into your ear while you have someone kick your shins. Same thing. But enough of that. Avery got into a parodoxical mess. How can soap be messy? Well, she dispensed a whole bunch of my shampoo and conditioner in the shower to "clean it." She's done this before, and I remember thinking as I lay in the fetal position on the family room floor, "Where's Avery? It's awfully quiet." This is never a good thing. Yes, I know I just said that the noise is bad, but that's the screaming. I mean just general playing around and in the same room noise. So I got myself up and went looking. I crept into the bathroom as quietly as I could, and I saw her. Covered in goo. Scrubbing the shower doors with her hands. Wash on, wash off. Ah, my little karate kid!
Earlier, Krystle took this pic of Avery in the shower. I should have recognized the harbinger of destruction, but that's what I get for shaking and mumbling on the floor.
Here's just a cute moment from yesterday. Notice the smile? That was missing today.
Back to the thug life for Avery. As I've said before, this is one tough kid. Dan and I watched her go down the little slide that's in the house and at the bottom, launch herself forward onto a bean bag. Which elicited giggles from everyone! Girl is nuts! She carries all five babies at once exclaiming, "Heavy," but then proceeds to grunt like a mini weightlifter and accomplish her task. After all, she can do it herself!
Avery: It's a thug life, yo. Yeah, I'm strangling my own doll. Whatcha gonna do about it?! Huh? Does that shock you? Well let me tell you, I got my eye on you, and if you try anything to try to save this partially stuffed, partially plastic baby that has its head tied on with a quick tie like it's some sort of criminal, I'll have to serve you up a plate of whoop ass! Bring it, yo. I dare you! I may be wearing a pink shirt and a cute little bear hat that I put on backwards, but don't let the girlie exterior fool you. I grew up taking care of myself. I make my own bottles. I change my own diapers. I get the laundry done. When no one is looking I write critical literary analysis essays on the ecosystemic relationship of all living things in the gardens of Shakespeare and Hawthorne's works (Specifically Hamlet, Othello, Rappaccini's Daughter, and The Scarlet Letter). Yeah, that's right! Thugs can be frighteningly intelligent, too! Right now I'm studying neuroscience on the side. Just for shits and giggles. Heck, mom even lets me drive the car to Hayden's house. It's not that far. And get this...this is why I'm totally BEAST...I don't even wear a seatbelt! That's right! I'm a badass! Beat that Scrappy-Doo!
Avery: I told you...I'm keeping an eye on you...
No comments:
Post a Comment