When Good Girls Go Bad

They need to make a new horror film aimed at parents called, "The Teeth." Molly is definitely a baby with teeth – all four molars have broken the surface now (but aren't all the way in yet) and there are four uncomfortable-looking while bulges on her gums where all four of her eyeteeth are trying to burst through. She's not sleeping well and usually wakes up anywhere from 3-5 times a night. Ugh!! The other night she was having a particularly hard time sleeping, so I tried taking her back to bed with me in a fit of desperation. She laid down and snuggled with me for a few minutes, before she rolled over on to her stomach, stuck her little face right in mine, smiled her cutest smile, and gave me a kiss before chirping, "Mama, HI!" It's a good thing she's honed her "cuteness" skills, because there isn't much that strikes me as cute at 5 a.m. I've decided to wait to commence Operation Sleep until things calm down a bit in the tooth department. So, it looks like Dad and I are still stuck with a roommate for the time being. I bet Max is bribing her to keep waking up at night so he doesn't have to share his room ... ;)

Molly mastered walking within a week or two of taking her first steps – she almost never crawls any more and walks (or runs) all over the house. It's so funny watching her toddler around on her chubby little legs – the girl is sturdy! Of course, her improved mobility makes it even easier for her to pester her big brother. Her favorite thing to do right now, since she usually starts and finishes her meals first, is to stand by Max's chair and try to swipe food off of his plate. I know it's time to go move her away from the table when Max starts saying things like, "No, no, Molly – no raisins!" (except it comes out more like "No, no, Mimi – no rayseens!"). You can also tell that she's the youngest child, because she is so accustomed to having things taken away from her (especially by Mr. "Doesn't Know How to Share" Max), that she has developed quite the baby death grip. Trying to pry items out of her grasp is HARD. Plus, unlike Max at the same age, Molly throws a dramatic baby fit when you take away something she wants. I dread brushing her teeth, because she loves her toothbrush and always dissolves into fits of despair when I take it away (and, of course, what she most wants to do is run around with it in her mouth, which is not allowed).

Max is sugar and sass all rolled up into a cute little package. Sometimes he's the sweetest little boy – he loves to give kisses and hugs, jumps for joy (literally) when I come home, and has taken to patting the spot next to him on the couch to invite me to sit down and read a book with him. But, he’s also perfected the toddler tantrum – shrieking "NooOooo!" while throwing himself to the floor, kicking his feet, and flailing about. He almost never likes to share anything with his sister (especially HIS mama) and likes to do everything his way. If we go for a walk, he wants to go "dis way!," if he watches a DVD, he has to select it, and if we read a book before bed, he wants to pick it out (which I don't mind, except when he uses it as a stall tactic and insists on inspecting every single one of his bazillion books ... twice). When he's eating his meals, he's now taken to dramatically pushing back his (unfinished) food, proclaiming that he's "all done," and then demanding, "More M&Ms!!" When the M&Ms aren't forthcoming, he usually pulls his plate back and resumes eating! When I sing him his bedtime song, he always makes requests – currently, he asks me to sing the "Elmo" song every night (the "Time to Say Goodnight" song that Andrea Bocelli sings to Elmo -- let me tell you, I'm NO Andrea Bocelli!).

Speaking of Elmo, we've had a panicky day here today after we discovered that Max's beloved Elmo was NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. He wasn't in the downstairs toy box - he wasn't in the upstairs toy box. He wasn't under the couch, behind the crib, stuffed in a drawer, in the clothes hamper, in the trunk of Max's toy car, or anywhere else within general baby reach. Come to think of it, we hadn't seen Elmo at all for a couple of days -- Max kept asking for him, but I kept assuming he was on another floor than whatever floor we were currently on, and I kept telling Max we'd get him when we went downstairs/upstairs (and then I'd forget to look for him). After Dad, Big Brother, Big Sister, and I combed the house (while Max ran around yelling, "Elmo" and Molly looked ever so innocent), I trekked out to the garage and started peering at the bags of trash that were awaiting garbage day. Sure enough, through the (thin) white (bargain) plastic of the trash bag, I see a fuzzy, red arm. Thankfully, Elmo managed to land between some paper and a well-wrapped pee diaper, so he was still clean (although a little fragrant). I ran him through the SteamFresh cycle of our amazing washing machine and he's no worse for the wear.

We assume that Molly, who occasionally tries to stuff things in the trash can (usually her beloved cloth diaper loveys), must have tried to off Elmo when we weren't looking. It must have been her way of getting back at Max for stealing her wooden spoon (i.e. drumstick) during the baby pots and pans concert the other day. I suppose. Instead of sleeping with the fishes, Elmo was almost sleeping with the coffee grounds!