They Didn't Tell Me To Eat When the Baby Sleeps, But I Know Now

I have figured out what Mila is going to be when she grows up. Actually, I should say who because Mila is the next Richard Simmons.

Exhibit A: She's a champion motivator.

So you thought you were going to go for a leisurely walk with the baby? NOPE. She's going to yell at you if you try to be leisurely. GO FASTER! FASTER! HOORAY! WEEEEEEEE!

Seriously. The child oozes glee when you're walking/running so fast that you're at risk for heat exhaustion. But slow down and she will whip out her sad puppy eyes and make you feel like a terrible human being.

It's almost enough to make me want to be a running crazy. ALMOST.

Exhibit B: She'll watch what you eat.

By "watch" I mean "steal" and by "steal" I mean "You are never eating again." At 11 months of age, Mila has already mastered the art of grabbing a cracker out of your mouth and making you forget that you wanted it for yourself. There's no Lady and the Tramp about it. She just takes every bit of food you try to put in your mouth.

Always.

And she can sense when I'm about to eat. The kid can be happily playing in another zip code but she will know if I sit down on the couch with a bowl of ice cream. She appears like some sort of reverse Houdini and then casually reaches up and takes the entire bowl of ice cream.

It's ... bothersome. I mean, HOW DOES SHE KNOW? She always knows.

I'm just going to start hiding in the pantry when I'm hungry. I can't deal with a new (cuter) Richard Simmons.