I’ve been trying to upload a few new posts for the past week, but they all have pictures included. And, for some reason, my laptop is stupid, hates me and refuses to allow me to upload anything from iPhoto. Seriously – it’s almost been ‘toss-the-laptop-out-window’ angry. Like, if Derrick hadn’t been here, it would have happened.
Instead, I’ll tell you a little story about our favorite 2-year old, Blair. There are two versions: her’s and mine. I don’t want to try to persuade you one way or the other as to which one is true. Let’s just all try to remember who the grown-up is here. Okay, let’s at least all try to remember who the mommy is. Which means I’m always right. Right?
Blair has been working on perfecting her “Terrible Twos” act lately. I can’t be sure, but it seems like she’s in the “focusing on perfecting her fits” stage right now. There’s the “super loud” fit. The “über loud” fit. The “I’m screaming so loudly and high-pitched that only dogs who are very far away can hear me right now” fit. And, all of the above also are part of the contest for “longest fit ever.”
This morning was one of those days. I carefully asked Blair what she wanted to wear today. We have learned it’s just not worth the battle to try to pick something out and then argue with her for the next 10 minutes or so. Plus, her answer is always one of two things: pants, a shirt and a tutu or dress and a tutu.
This particular morning she chose a dress, a tutu and pants (since, you know, it’s cold outside). We quickly agreed on the dress. I then made the fatal error of choosing jeggings (jeggings, which, by the way, she wore just last week). I sat on the floor with her and put her dress on. Then came the pants. She saw them and immediately began screaming that they were too tight. She “NO LIKE THEM PANTS!” I got them over her little feet, and up to her knees. And then all hell broke loose. I tried to stand her up to pull the pants all the way up, and she proceeded to scream, “Deez is TOO TIGHT!!! I. NO. LIKE. THESE. PANTS!!!!!” After being hit in the face and kicked the second time, I stood up and left her on the floor in her room.
I proceeded to take a shower, get Paige ready for school, get myself dressed and ready … all the while trying to ignore the high-pitched, constant screaming was coming from Miss Blair. When I was ready to go downstairs I went into her room and told her that she could either stop or go back to bed.
She chose bed (by default, as she did NOT stop screaming).
I did notice, during this standoff, that her jeggings were wadded up on the floor and she was wearing a new pair of pants: red sweatpants, which were actually put on completely correctly (as in, not inside out or backwards – ala her sister Paige’s favorite style). I silently admired her wherewithal, and decided to leave this part of the battle un-won on my part. She was wearing pants, and a quick stint in her crib ended the fit.
Cut to earlier this afternoon, when I dropped Blair off at her Aunt EJ’s to play while I went to Paige’s Valentine’s Day party at preschool (more on that later this week).
I pulled out of her driveway, and about 2 minutes later received a message from EJ alerting me to my daughter, ahem … less than delightful demeanor. Apparently Aunt EJ had made the fatal mistake of daring to ask Blair what she would like for lunch, then proceeded to be rude enough to follow-up that question with actual lunch options.
And, at that point Blair was sitting against a hallway wall shooting her Aunt EJ death looks.
At some point during the party the two of them must have made up, because when I got back into my car and listened to my messages, the following commentary was waiting (via HeyTell messages; here is a loose transcript of our conversation):
EJ: Okay, all is right with your daughter – she is feeling much better, and is so stinking cute. Although, she keeps telling me she doesn’t like the color red. So I asked her why she was wearing red sweatpants.
Me: Did she tell you why?
EJ: Well, she said you wanted her to wear her jeggings. But then you wouldn’t pull them up over her knees. And she couldn’t walk. And she was so, so sad. I’m inclined to believe her – mostly because she’s so cute, and that little voice? I can’t get enough of it.
Um, what?!?! Is that a joke?
Well-played, Miss Blair. Well-played.
This? Is why I am almost positive my girls will someday either be high-powered CEOs or dictators of small countries.
Probably the latter.