Sticks and stones
I unloaded my rocks from the trunk last night while Zozo "helped." First she decided to take a walk in the general direction headed away from me (of course). I let her get to the end of the sidewalk where she was turning to head down the driveway before calling her back. She turned and gave me a look that said, "You're going to have to entice me to return." I picked up a stick off the ground and held it out. Turns out, that wasn't the brightest idea.
She came back for the stick, and was so enamored of it that she began collecting other sticks off the driveway. She looked adorable, toddling around with four sticks in one hand, bending over to pick up a fifth with her right hand and try to cram it in her crowded left hand. When that didn't work, she placed them all in a neat pile on the driveway, picked up one in each hand, and took off again.
Down to the end of the sidewalk and towards the street. I took off after her, again, because she wasn't heeding my calls. I'm sure she was thinking, "Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna listen to you. Last time all you gave me was a stinkin' stick. Whatever." I got in front of her, causing her to tack to her right, then back to her left when I kept moving to block her. This is when she started to get angry.
That was nothing, though, compared to how she flipped out when I picked her up. That's when the sticks started flying. Not so smart, giving your child sticks to play with.
I took the sticks away and you'd have thought I pulled her arm out of her socket. Total meltdown. I took her inside while she wailed like a banshee, and turned on the kitchen faucet to wash her hands. That's when she became mesmerized by the water and turned off her eye faucets and started to laugh.
Ahhhh. Life with a toddler.
The rocks look fantastic around my little Japanese maple, by the way. Very zen.
She came back for the stick, and was so enamored of it that she began collecting other sticks off the driveway. She looked adorable, toddling around with four sticks in one hand, bending over to pick up a fifth with her right hand and try to cram it in her crowded left hand. When that didn't work, she placed them all in a neat pile on the driveway, picked up one in each hand, and took off again.
Down to the end of the sidewalk and towards the street. I took off after her, again, because she wasn't heeding my calls. I'm sure she was thinking, "Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna listen to you. Last time all you gave me was a stinkin' stick. Whatever." I got in front of her, causing her to tack to her right, then back to her left when I kept moving to block her. This is when she started to get angry.
That was nothing, though, compared to how she flipped out when I picked her up. That's when the sticks started flying. Not so smart, giving your child sticks to play with.
I took the sticks away and you'd have thought I pulled her arm out of her socket. Total meltdown. I took her inside while she wailed like a banshee, and turned on the kitchen faucet to wash her hands. That's when she became mesmerized by the water and turned off her eye faucets and started to laugh.
Ahhhh. Life with a toddler.
The rocks look fantastic around my little Japanese maple, by the way. Very zen.
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