Shoot Me Now

As I washed my face this morning, I glanced out of my right eye to see a lizard on my hairspray, peering at me curiously from above the words "super bounce and hold."

Having just returned from New England vacation, I'm feeling overrun with tropical critters and lizards. This one was perilously close to my toothbrush.

But while lizards in the bathroom are old news, there's much to report on summer advances.

Hayden has learned two new songs.

Tinkle Tinkle SCAR, he sings. Tinkle Tinkle SCAR.

Over and over.

Until he switches to: I want to be-e a MA-CHO man. ("Me Boy," he tells us. "Big Guy.")

Delaney has learned how to somersault. Anywhere she can. Watch out, we'll be in a parking lot and she'll drop and roll. Super bounce and hold.

She has also taken up gambling, heading to the Crab Races at Bay Island Beach Resort as often as she can. She always names her first crab "Daddy."

And she's started dressing herself. Bro's green Croc's, baby doll dress, and sunbonnet. Of course, this is when she isn't UNdressing herself. In other people's houses. And restaurants. And airports.

In a magic moment one afternoon, during a times-two tantrum over the Fantastic Clean & Shine bottle, both kids figured out how to pull a nozzle. This quickly became a favorite new game, requiring the purchase of many different sized bottles. They spray anything and anyone.

Shoot me now.

Then they both learned, simultaneously, to crawl out of their cribs. In under 30 seconds. Completely silently.

Then open the door.

HELL-O! they said in delighted unison as they stood at the foot of our bed. They're here... Mike and I said to each other, helpless and sleepy, as we pulled four more arms and legs into bed with us.

We quickly converted their cribs to toddler beds (as if crawling out of a crib was any more dangerous than being two-and-a-half, loose, alone, in a bedroom/bathroom suite with second-floor balcony, with a partner-in-crime). Then we hastily embarked on a vigorous re-training program.

With sleep-guru and lifesaver Dr. Weissbluth's blessing, and encouragement from more than a few friends who've been there before, we've begun locking them in their room.

I know, horrible. But better than the handcuffs offered by Pauline. (Not sure why she has them lying around, but this is a family blog, so we'll let it alone.)

My Dickensian move comes after one so-called snoozy last week when the little darlings re-arranged the furniture, escaped to the balcony, narrowly escaped falling over into the pool, opened their bathroom door, filled the bathtub with water and pink bubbles (for Hayden), turned on the separate shower (for Delaney), pulled down all the clothes hanging in the closet, and started singing "Home, home on the range...." which is how I walked in on them.

Now we recite our sleep rules and perform other multi-faceted and odd rituals, then pull the door firmly shut behind us. I stand there on the other side holding the doorknob for as long as it takes. The first couple of nights Delaney went through the roof, hysterical. Crying and yelling. tugging on the handle. Breaking my heart.

Now she's more relaxed and strategic. She tries the door and says, "Aynee. Door not working. You try!"

At which point another 27 pounds runs across the room. Then, sadly, from Hayden (you can almost hear him shaking his head in the dark): "No work, Laney. Own beds. Now. Bedtime."

At least somebody gets it.

Some of the time.

1 comment:

  1. Lizards would wig me out. I'm still trying to get used to spiders in the burbs.


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