When you become a parent, there must have been a signature page at the hospital somewhere where you had to sign away all rights to being embarrassed. Because after you have kids, you kind of have to do away with wanting to find a corner and hide. Because they will, on a semi-regular basis, continue to find ways to embarrass you. And if you embarrass easily, well, you have to get over it real quick.
Luckily Nick broke me in years ago and my days of being embarrassed by things the kids do went by the wayside long ago. But I am certainly still tested. Last week, I had to drop off papers at a local office. I had a few questions, so as the guy, a near stranger, went over the paperwork, I sat down at his desk and went through my list. Madeline was on my lap, facing me. I was wearing a v-neck shirt. At one point during my conversation, she grabbed the front of my shirt. And hung on. And pulled it down. The very nice near stranger was a stranger no more and saw more than most would on a first date. He was very cute in how he handled it. He turned sideways, laughing, and faced the wall as he continued to answer my questions, without missing a beat. I wasn’t embarrassed, years of training prepares me for such things, and just shrugged and apologized for her antics. What are you going to do? Needless to say, we might have made an impression.
November 23, 2010, Photo #228
Tonight, as my little monster is upstairs settling down for bed, I’m going to remember this face from bathtime. Because it will squash the visions leftover from tonight’s dinner. As she yelled “loser,” put her hands on her hips and told me in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t eating dinner because she didn’t want to. And drove home her point by tossing her sippy cup across the table to me, knocking my drink and my own dinner onto the floor. Dinnertime ended right then and there, and she was sent upstairs for bed.
It seems Madeline has her own version of the terrible twos, and has adopted it rather late in the game. Thank goodness there’s only two-and-a-half months to go until she’s three, but I have a feeling this fiery independent little peanut is going to continue to give me a run for my money no matter her age.