These days, Kate pretty much only wants me to hold her fingers so she can walk around the house. She hasn't tackled walking further than five steps at a time, and those usually involve a lunge at the end. But this finger walking is her favorite. This began while Grandma was babysitting, continued while Grandpa was babysitting, and now that MOM is the one babysitting it's not really feasible. Unlike the Grandparents I have to, you know, do stuff. So, today, when I pulled my fingers away (gently) so I could cook dinner, Kate decided to tell me exactly what she thought about that.
She collapsed to the floor, head to the ground, sprawled out, and SCREAMED. A new scream. An almost-toddler scream. A holy-hell-the-world-is-ending-because-I-am-deprived scream. (Is she 13? No, just 11 months.) No wait for it... it gets better.
And then... she began to pound on the floor with her fist. I kid you not.
I was feeling kinda like a bad mom. I mean, you know, she's a baby! You aren't supposed to just let them cry and feel all sad.
I tossed her a plastic spoon (I was doing dishes, folks! What am I supposed to throw her!). Nothing. Pound pound.
I tossed her a bowl (plastic, again). Nothing.
Wooden spoon?
Bingo! She instantly sat up, looked at me, looked at the spoon, and gnawed on that thing for the next fifteen minutes.
So if you are feeling like your spine is too straight, and you would like to come over and pace the floor, please. Do. Kate will love you forever.
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