This is a Thumb, This is an Index Finger, and This is a Pinky--Wrap Him Around That One

What was once a little problem is quickly turning into a very BIG problem. My dear husband, let's call him Sucker for the purpose of this post, is weak. Very weak. I have known this for years and years. If I want something, all I have to do is bat an eyelash or two, generate some crocodile tears, or ask for it in a sweet little voice. Any of the aforementioned strategies will result in him immediately doing whatever it is that I want. I could say, "Buy me Canada," and he would do it.

I choose to use my power very sparingly. After all, if he buys me Canada, there probably won't be enough money left in the checking account for that Grande Nonfat Caramel Macchiato that I so desperately need a few times a week. And, well, without that Macchiato, everybody around me would be looking for a plane so that they could fly me over Canada and drop me out into the vast nothingness with the hope that I wouldn't find my way back home. With power comes responsibility. I understand that.

Alexis also possesses this power. And you better believe she knows it. Only, she doesn't use it sparingly. Oh no, she uses it endlessly. I'm home with her for over an hour before Sucker gets home and she never even so much as glances at the TV. Sucker walks through the door and suddenly you will hear, "I want Dora." Guess who Tivo's every single episode of Dora? And turns it on the second it's requested? Uh huh.

Later in the evening, just before bed time, I can guarantee you that Alexis will starting asking for monkeys. A "monkey" in our house is a package of corn syrup and sugar mixed with whatever chemical it is that allows tooth-rotting, hyper-inducing fruit snacks to take on their given shape. Once upon a time, the shape of choice was Curious George, so the nasty little things gained the name "monkey." Anyway, in my mind, fruit snacks would be the exact opposite of a good idea for a bedtime snack. So of course I say no whenever Alexis asks for them (the only reason I even buy them is to stash in the car and my purse for use in case of emergency). Sucker? He hands them right over.

Both situations are known annoyances. I nag, he does it anyway. However, Sucker has started to look over his shoulder as he caves in faster than you can say AHEM. That tells me he has actually heard a minuscule portion of my nagging and his brain is working towards figuring out a way to make his daughter happy without having his wife kill him. In other words, there might be hope.

Except, EXCEPT, that she is getting more creative in her use of her powers. She's like a little witch apprentice honing her skills. Case in point, last Sunday I got a call on my cell phone while I was rushing out to meet Jen. "Since when does she freak out for french fries when she sees McDonald's?"

I replied, "Since never."

"Really? Because she started freaking out that she wants french fries when I drove by."

Our conversation continued for a few minutes while I explained that she has never once asked for french fries when I drove past, and we HAVE to drive past to get to pretty much anywhere. Then it dawned on me that I should ask one very important question. "Where are you?"

"McDonald's."

Sucker.

(Of COURSE she has had Starbucks. What kid doesn't like Hot Cocoa?)

Warning: This Will be Extremely Boring for You . . .

. . . but it's going to be one of my favorite posts to look back at once in a while.

Ever have one of those days that you wish you could just replay over and over again? I did on Saturday. I would happily go back and relive every single second of it, and I wouldn't change a single thing. It might have been nice if Alexis had figured out how fun Sesame Street Live was a wee bit sooner, but I wouldn't trade that 45 minutes she spent clinging to me for anything. It doesn't get much better than having your Toddler nuzzled up close for that length of time. She may never sit still that long ever again, so I enjoyed every second of it.

But even better were the events leading up to that afternoon out. It was just your run-of-the-mill sort of morning. Then Alexis managed to turn putting away laundry into the most fun I've ever had (Why yes, as a matter of fact, I do not have a life. What of it?). There are no words that can do justice to the playing we did that morning, other than wow! my kid is funny when she puts tights on her head!

Thank goodness for cameras. I plan to relive this fun over and over and over for YEARS. Thanks, Alexis (oh, and next time I suggest you wear pants).

She Won't Do THAT Again

At precisely 11:46 pm last night, the Toddler suddenly realized that her new bed does not quite resemble the prison she had grown accustomed to--she discovered the ability to get out of bed, even in the dark. I heard the soft little thump, thump, thump of toddler footsteps in the hall and waited patiently as she worked at the door knob to our room. Shortly thereafter, I realized that our dogs are useless.

I am a light sleeper. It is a well-documented fact that every little creak, moan, whisper, and bump in the night is enough to wake me up. In the fall and spring when we keep the windows open all the time, I always hope that our neighbors will show their love by keeping their windows closed. The guy two doors down literally woke me up one night when he had a coughing fit at 2:00 in the morning. I packed away the baby monitor well over a year ago since I really didn't need to be awakened by every breath Alexis took. I can't sleep through anything.

So, the first sign I had that Alexis had gotten out of her bed in the middle of the night was when I heard her open her door. (She's also a light sleeper and since the move to the toddler bed, the cats have been driving her nuts when they go in her room at night. I decided to just lock them out.) I listened intently to hear if Alexis would try playing a rousing game of Dora the Explorer while rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, or if she was headed my way. As I realized she was headed my way, I planned my response.

What I didn't plan was the dogs' response. First, you should know that Jasmine is a Lhasa Apso. She was bred to be a sort of early warning system. Way back in her homeland of Tibet, a Lhasa's job was to sit in the lap of royalty and at the slightest noise, they are to go all sorts of crazy, thereby alerting the bigger dogs that can actually do something about the intruder. As soon as a Lhasa knows that someone else is taking care of the problem, they stop barking. Meg (the Bulldog) has zero watchdog skills. She has gotten the idea into her head that she should just bark anytime Jasmine barks, except she doesn't know when to stop. Her bark is so loud and so deep that you would think she was a 200-pound beast, and not just a 50-pound beast that is scared to death of empty paper towel rolls. Meg's bark, in turn, sets Jasmine off again and on and on they go, usually until somebody gives one of them a good swift kick to the head (kidding, kidding, no one would actually hurt them, much).

I expect one of two things to happen when somebody wanders my house in the middle of the night: either the dogs should go apes*&t at the first hint of a sound, or they should just shut their traps. They should not wait until the Toddler is already standing beside me as I lie in my bed and THEN go apes#%t. They scared the crap out of the Toddler; she essentially jumped out of her skin and went into complete hysterics. And WOW was I pissed. Hello? If that had been a real intruder? The knife would already have been in my chest. What good are dogs that tell you someone is wandering your house if they don't hear anything until the person is already in your bedroom?

Alexis, for her part, was traumatized. I don't think she was expecting a leisurely stroll down the hall to end in being attacked by the two crappy guard dogs. I'd bet a whole lot of money that she won't try wandering the house again anytime soon.

Useless Dog #1

Useless Dog #2