Anyone who has kids will tell you that time flies so fast that you often don't know where it goes. And I have to agree. All of a sudden, we are about to have a two-year-old in our home. And not just any two-year-old, but one that I
gave birth to. Two years ago, I had a pregnant belly, swollen feet, and an excited heart and mind. Today, I have a living, breathing, dancing Bean in my life. A Bean who is suddenly - or so it seems - becoming a "big girl."
There have been a few major events recently in Bean's life. First is that she's got a "new" bed. We took the high rails off her crib and replaced them with a toddler rail. We took Bean shopping for bedding, and much to my chagrin outfitted the place with "Hello Kitty" a sheets and comforter set. She could not have been more thrilled. And she could not have done better at transitioning. She snuggled right in and showed the new bed off to any visitor who would take her guided tour to see it...including the dogs.
Another major event took place during this past week. Suddenly, Bean realized that she was not confined to this new bed. She could wander about her room if she wanted to, opening and closing drawers, reading her books, turning off and on her nightlight. She was very pleased, and so was I, as she still made it into bed each night and slept contentedly.
Then, this past Saturday, Bean made the ultimate discovery. She could not only get out of her bed, but she could OPEN HER BEDROOM DOOR. Naptime brought a surprise to the adults in the house. No sooner had she been put to bed, than Bean's little face appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking quite pleased. We marched her back upstairs, however, and everything seemed to be okay. She played some, she opened and closed her door some, but she stayed put. And she got quiet. We had no reason to believe she was doing anything other than sleeping.
B, his Mama, and I retired to the front porch for a bit (have I mentioned that I was in the middle of canning?). We sat outside, enjoying the unseasonably cool air. I entered and exited the house several times to stir my pot of chili sauce. Everything was quiet.
Until about an hour later. When I heard, "MaaaaaaaaMaaaaaa!" Uh oh. I quickly realized that Bean had never gone to sleep. Which means that while she should have been in the process of a three-hour nap, she was doing something else. B went upstairs. B immediately called for me. "Uh oh," I said, suspecting something involving poop.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I was met by my
shiny, slippery little girl, clad only in her diaper and greased from head to toe. She had slathered herself in an entire container of vaseline. It was all over her bed and her clothes too. And there was a massive pile of wipes on the floor. (Later I piece together that, upon realizing she'd made a mistake, Bean tried desperately to cover her tracks with wipes. The trash can was also coated in vaseline.) For a moment, the three of us exchanged dumbfounded glances, stifled giggles, and telepathic swear words (okay, that last part was just two of us). Mostly, we were all shocked.
While B cleaned the bed, I plunged the Bean into the bath tub. The water beaded up and rolled right off of her. Through all of this, Bean didn't say much. I think she was in shock at how terribly wrong her well-intentioned foray with a jar of lotion had gone. (She has a definite fondness for personal hygiene rituals, including "lotioning up" with
regular lotion, under a parents
supervision.) It was not until later that night that out of the blue, she said, "Room messy. Lotion. Clean up." We all agreed. The grown-ups in the group exchanged tired but good-humored glances, and crossed our fingers and toes that that night's bedtime routine would go smoothly. (It did not - there were four walks back to bed. But there was no lotioning up.)
By about ten that night, I'd finished the day's canning, which had had to be abandoned while more urgent matters, like a napless child covered in an oil slick, were attended to. I literally fell into bed. But I think that we all learned something about our limits and our responsibilities that day. Bean obviously learned what a jar of vaseline can do, and by the end of the night was beginning to internalize what it means to stay in one's room at bedtime (the last time I walked her back to bed, she stopped me mid-lecture and finished the speech for me). B and I learned how to keep our good humor and yet balance that out with a small dose of discipline through a situation that could have been majorly frustrating. We also learned what our smart "big" girl is capable of! And finally, we learned (three baths in) that dish detergent is about the only thing that will remove vaseline from one's hair.
 |
| We didn't get any photos of Bean during the actual event, but this one was taken after bath #1. It doesn't really do the situation justice, but does show a bit of the matted greasy hair situation. And gives a pretty good idea of what an over the edge tired napless toddler looks like. |
