Crazy Crib

Dear J-

Triskadekaphobics all over can take solace in the fact that not a single thing I set out intending to accomplish today turned out quite right.  I’ll take that as a good indication that the rest of my Friday should proceed smoothly.  Then again, we’re dealing with Friday and US Open-induced traffic here, so everything has yet to be quite settled.

We put figgy to sleep last night in a nightgown and, because it was still warm, didn’t zip her into a sack (wearable blanket ) like usual.  A few hours later, when it was our turn to turn in, I checked on her, intending to add the sleep sack but noticing three things in rapid succession:

  1. I didn’t remember leaving an extra diaper in the crib with her, and she can’t reach the changing table, so —
  2. Oh, she pulled her own diaper off, but that’s no problem as long as she didn’t —
  3. But she did.

So we ended up changing her out of the now-wet nightgown, strapping a diaper on her, re-making the bed with fresh linens, and finally, locating the emergency pacifier to stop the why-am-I-awake-if-I-didn’t-request-it protests.  For her, it may have been a strange dream; for me, it served to remind me that every day, things are different.  Feeding is now best accomplished by feigning showing great interest in her food and attempting to eat it for yourself, all while chasing her around the room, as she’ll submit to the high chair only for certain goodies (yogurt, mango, and graham crackers).  Patiently, now, she points out all the animals to her poor unobservant parents, sometimes accompanied by a bloodcurdling shriek of crushing anticipation designed to weaken her enemies’ bowels.

We keep having more fun.  What seemed like a plateau turns out to show more peaks, and sooner than expected.  And work itself becomes both faster and more fun.



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