The look

Jellybean has decided that she doesn't like to wear (regular) dresses.

She wears leggings and tshirts. And occasionally frothy tulle skirts layered over the leggings. And then a see-through tulle dress over that, too. And ballerina costumes, with 18 necklaces layered on top of it.

It's the hobo princess look!

Flattery will get you....

Monkey likes to play dress up. A lot. "Dramatic play" is something this kid EXCELS at. We have princess clothing, ballerina clothing, kiddie-friendly hats and jewelry and all the scarves I forgot to donate after the '80s ended.

But most of all, she likes to wear my clothing. Specifically, my shoes.

We have had to institute a rule that she can only take one pair out of the closet at a time. And it's almost always a strappy three or four inch heel. Which she then puts on and clomps around in. Even Jellybean is in on this routine! It's adorable. And likely very annoying to our downstairs neighbor (sorry).

Recently, however, she's really moved on to accessories. Jewelry. Bling. Layers and layers of it. We have pink necklaces and purple necklaces and sparkly fake diamond & jewel rings and on and on and on.

Most of my costume jewelry - big necklaces, bangles, chunky turquoise pieces - are in a bag hung inside my closet. Some of which is right at eye level for Monkey.

And of course, she now wants to wear all of my jewelry. Which is OK, in theory, but there have been a few (ok, several, I learn slow!) necklaces that have succumbed to rough play and need to be repaired.

So while the shoes are generally OK under my supervision, the jewelry is off-limits.

Yesterday morning at 7:15am Monkey wanted to play with my shoes. I said no - too early to clomp around on our downstair neighbors' heads. So she turned to jewelry.

Monkey: Mom can I wear your jewelry?
Me: No sweetheart.
Monkey: Puhleeze?
Me: No. It's time to get around and eat breakfast.
Monkey: Just one piece?
Me: No.
Monkey: How about if I just get that blue one out for you? You would look so charming.

Hello....anyone still out there?

I know, it's been radio silence. Hope readers still exist...

We've been busy. I'm on augmentin for a sinus/bronchitis infection and am feeling much better (aw, thanks for asking!)  - as a result I once again have the mental capacity to actually note the happenings in our lives....going to bed 38 seconds after the kids do leaves little time for things like blogging. Or, you know, life.

But life has been happening! Let me fill you in:

Jellybean broke my nose. She head butted me. (stop laughing, little brother!) I have been calling her a butthead at work for the past two weeks and only today did anyone get the joke. Head butt....butthead. Oh g*d my jokes are bad that I need to explain them! (I'm here all week! don't forget to tip your waitress! har)

But, no joke here - we're potty training our Jellybean! She's had three days at school without an accident! She's my big girl. We started this process at the prompting of her school - and also because she won't tolerate a dirty diaper. The kicker was that she kept taking off poopy diapers and I had to go find the - ahem - nuggets that rolled away. That was pretty motivating, between you and me.

Monkey wants in on all the praise we're heaping on Jellybean for using the potty - so now she offers to "show her sister how to use the potty" each time she heads in. And what the heck - she's a great role model, so we praise her. I love that kid. And I'm not the only one...

It's amazing how much Jellybean adores her big sister. She wants to sit by her at breakfast. She wants to wear her big sister's clothing to school (she wore two of Monkey's pj tops to school today. Yes, that's right, two. And yes, Jellybean is now picking out her clothes. sigh)

Anything that Monkey does? So does Jellybean. It's (no pun intended) monkey see, monkey do. And it's adorable. We used to think we had Jellybean for Monkey, but I think it's the other way around.

Monkey is thriving at school. We just signed her up for summer camp, and part of it will be Spanish immersion. I give her about 6 months before she starts teaching me things to say in Spanish, and tricks me (you know, like the lead in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who says "I have three testicles" to his fiancee's family....funny).

Monkey has also bought into the Santa thing, hook line and sinker. I was talking to her the other day, suggesting that if she was good maybe Santa would bring her and Jellybean a table that they could do artwork on together, and wouldn't that be fun...and she sighed, said yes it would be great, but "how will Santa get it down the chimney? the chimney is only 18 inches wide!!" Funny kid. Especially since we don't have a chimney!

Miss September Issue strikes again

Yesterday, since the heat wave abated (high was only ONLY 87  - whee!), I walked the girls to school. I loaded everything into the bugaboo (thanks 'Andpa and Grandma - we are still loving the stroller), and got ready to walk out the door.

Since the summer is tough on my feet, I decided to forego the usual flipflops (that leave my feet SOOO grubby) and put on my favorite sneakers - my chuck taylors, in unfashionable black.

Monkey took one look at the shoes, and said "no mommy, you can't wear those with me. Put on 'pretty' shoes."

Oh.

The September Issue

When Monkey was little, I dressed her to the nines. Her outfit would match, including coordinated hair ribbons, socks and shoes.

Each day, I'd comb out her hair and put it into delicious pigtails. And she'd let me! She'd sit still long enough that I could get a straight part, adjust the ribbons, etc.

Now?

Not only does she NOT let me pick out her clothing or do her hair, she often throws a fit when I suggest that she wear - nay, even TRY - something on that she didn't select.

I have already written about her contempt for the color green. What I haven't written about is the battle royale that occurred last week.

Last week, the weather shifted from unusually cold to unusually warm. And I was caught unprepared to dress my children for school. Monkey's down-filled puffer jacket was way too hot to wear. So, we layered - threw a fleece on under a raincoat. The only problem was that this was a NEW raincoat, and Monkey didn't like it. Oh, the drama. The crying and whining and proclamations of "I don't like you; you're not my friend ANYMORE"...it was the pits.

So, I went to Baby Gap the very next day, eschewing lunch so I could shop for my beloved daughter, and I bought a cute pink windbreaker/spring jacket. I was proud of myself! (You realize that shopping, unless it is online, is limited to what I can do in ten minutes at lunch....(places like Duane Reed, CVS, and thaaaaaat's about it!) .....I have no other time to run errands in this vast city, so getting to the Gap was a coup for me! but I digress....)

The next morning I unveiled the fabulous FANTASTIC pink jacket. And it was worse that the day before.

It was an episode of Under The Table And Screaming (apologies to Dave Matthews...). When I finally got Monkey calmed down again, and the tears and shaking and shuddering had ceased....I asked her why she didn't like the jacket.

She told me that it was pink.

But you love pink, I exclaimed.

She looked at me like I'd pulled a kafkaesque metamorphosis into a giant turdball, rolled her eyes, and said "NO mommy. It's DARK pink."

****

Meanwhile, I was grateful that at least with Jellybean, she doesn't fight with me about her clothing since she's only 15 months old! Yeah, famous last words.

She threw a temper tantrum that very same morning, because she wanted to wear a different jacket than the one I'd picked out for her.

******

Part of me wants to know where in g*d's green earth these two get this from. After all, I don't think I'd looked at an issue of Vogue until I moved to NYC!

The other part of me? Is proud. My little (stubborn stinkers of) girls are going to do just fine.

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you

For the record, I have no less than 10-12 entries floating around in my brain. I'll get to them eventually, I promise....

I wouldn't have thought that the question of whether or not Monkey and Jellybean wore green today would be something post-worthy. But apparently I was WRONG. No less than 7 people I work with today asked me what cute little green outfits I put the girls into this morning......

And the answer? I know you are BURNING with curiosity, yes you are! Nothing.

Not one stitch of green between the two of them, unless you count the green on the front of Jellybean's diaper. (at least I'm pretty sure that there's green there - I googled Pamper's Cruisers to be sure and yup - there's a teensy bit of green).

Why? Because Monkey hates green. HATES IT! Hates it with the white-hot intensity of a star going super-nova. I tried to get her to wear a green shirt and once the tantrum ended and I mopped the tears off the floor, Monkey informed me that she did not like green AT ALL and therefore I should "give it to Jellybean..." (and apparently I haven't bought anything new for Jellybean that's green, either)

Sadly, yes, my eldest child has now learned that she can "give" anything she doesn't like to her little sister.....it's like the gambit of feeding veggies to the dog under the table. Not that we have a dog, or that she hasn't asked for one "when Oliver dies" every day for the past week. But I digress.

The point is? No green. Apologies to my children's Irish heritage.

And for the record? On St. Andrew's day they aren't going to wear tartan, either. Most days I'm lucky I can get them to put a coat on!

When she's 13, I may regret raising such a confident child

So, clothing. Clothing has become the bane of my existence in the mornings.

Why you ask? Because it is taking, on average, 45 (FORTY-FIVE!!) minutes each morning to get Monkey dressed for school.

I think we're going to a new system - picking outfits out the night before. Maybe I'll even send her to bed in her outfit. Something's gotta give.

It just takes waaaaay too long in the morning, with debates and discussions about the socks, the shoes, the pants, the dress NO the shirt no not THAT shirt, the sweatshirt NO NO NO the coat NO WAIT the sweatshirt, the hairclip NO NO NO the headband no NOTHING at all...and it NEEDS to MATCH!!!

ARGH!!!!!!!

Guess that's to be expected from a kid that likes clothing, likes to match, and has a tremendous amount of confidence.

I may want to pull my hair out but I'm raising a confident daughter!

Something tells me I'll suffer a few twinges of regret when she's a headstrong teenager....

Party!

Last week I was out of town. Went to "school" (aka a national conference on planned giving - wheee!).

Grandma L came to town to help wrangle, and - lucky! - got to go to a party at Monkey's school.

Here's Monkey sitting with Junebug, listening to Junebug's daddy J read. Monkey is a big fan of J - maybe because he's usually the dad rolling around on the floor being silly!


Here is Monkey with her buddy C, always one of the best dressed girls in class.......hmmmm, I think her mommy must still pick out her clothing! ha

Solidarity

I have a new mommy friend. She is a lovely, talented woman. And, like many of us, sometimes she struggles with the work-life balance.

We emailed back and forth the other day, and I made her laugh by asking her to leave a bread-crumb trail to wherever she locates "work-life" balance, as my map didn't have that location clearly marked.

Now I have high standards. Yes, you all nod. Fine, I have VERY high standards. I like to joke that I'm not anal, I just have standards (implying that others don't...). Because really, is it too much to expect that I can walk barefoot in my own home without food sticking to the bottom of my feet? I didn't think so.

But sometimes I realize that I am too tough on myself. I know my friends are, too. (tough on themselves, not me, that is!)

Gentle readers, do you think that the mythical creature known as "work-life balance" can be found? Is it really just an elaborate juggling act, keeping the balls in the air long enough to touch - ever so briefly - just one thing at a time? Because from what I've learned lately, multi-tasking slows you down.

Maybe the solution is just being "in the moment" - I know, that's so freaking zen I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. Ptooey.

But really, all jokes aside, maybe we should just try to be good at whatever the hell we're doing at that particular moment, and ignore the rest. Ignore the mommy guilt that is egging you on.

SO WHAT if the bed is unmade. No one but your prying neighbors need know. Hell, just buy better blinds so no one can see!

SO WHAT if the kids eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day, instead of lovingly prepared gourmet bento-boxes of organically raised whatever. Buy organic bread and soynut butter if you can, and be happy that they'll deign to eat anything at all! (picky toddlers are normal, from what I can tell. who knew! thought mine was just being - well, difficult!)

SO WHAT if the other kids on the bus have cute outfits on. Your kid's private bits are covered in clean clothing? Good enough. Besides, letting them pick out their own clothing encourages independence, leadership, and creativity.

All the mommies (and daddies, this isn't gender specific, although I DO think there is a thumb on the guilt scale for women) together now - raise your fist in the air! United in giving up the guilt? United in enjoying the moment instead of thinking about the kindegarten application-hell you'll be in if your kid doesn't get accepted to pre-k? (that last one's not just me, right?) United in enjoying this process, even if it's messy as hell and these damn kids didn't come with owner manuals? ALL RIGHT THEN!

ALl right then. Solidarity. We're all in this together.

Now, can anyone find that bread crumb trail?

It's a girl thing (or, are they related or what!)

The weather this fall has really spoiled us. I know, there's that lovely song about loving New York in spring....but fall here has spring beat every single time.

That is, until yesterday. When it was 40-some odd degrees out and raining sideways. Ugh. COLD!

I, of course, being of sound mind and body, have refused to break down and buy a maternity jacket. I suppose I was irrationally hoping to actually make it to 12/12 (and beyond, really, since I'm no Angelina Jolie and will still have a belly once I deliver BabyGirlCarter#2) without having to do anything other than wear layers. Under a bright red raincoat. Because that's the only thing that fits me. I know - what an image. I look like a bright red beach ball with legs. MMM, I'm bringing sexy back! (disclosure - I actually broke down and bought a jacket, recommended by my sister in law G, and am anxiously awaiting it's arrival from target.com)

However, this post isn't about my coat issues. It is about Monkey's coat issues.

See, this delusion that the warm weather would continue? Led to me not buying a new winter coat for Monkey. Poor thing.

So, we've been layering each morning to ensure she gets to school without turning into an ice block. She's just plain ole' cranky about having to put on two coats.

"Harrumph, one is enough, mom" is her attitude....and let me tell you, it is
capital A attitude! Bossy little thing.

I shared this tidbit with G, and turns out.........her insane toddler, HP, also has coat "issues" in the morning. Now, since Boulder is lovely and still warm out, this isn't an issue of preventing frostbite. Still, HP makes them go through 3 or 4 coats in the morning before she will actually put one on! "Developing a fashion sense already" is how her mother describes her.

They are so alike, it cracks me up. I forsee a lot of fun in the future, when HP and Monkey hang out. And either raid their mothers' closets for something to wear....or raid their mothers' closets so that they can roll around on the floor and say things like "I KNOW, can you believe she actually WEARS that?"

Random things

Did I ever mention that Monkey got to watch two Vietnamese PotBelly pigs being walked (on leashes!) in DUMBO a few weeks back? When we went to have brunch with Carey & Jody, a couple we love to hang out with (esp. since they are super tolerant of Monkey, for whatever reason...thanks mom, keep sending those checks their way!). How strange/cool is that? And that the minute we walked over to check them out, the pigs started pooping on the sidewalk? How nasty/gross is that? Um, yeah. And right before breakfast.

I may have mentioned that we had an early birthday party for Monkey and her cousin Emma back in Minneapolis, and that her Auntie Lauri and Uncle Jason gave her a set of Nemo sheets for her big girl bed? Did I mention that? Super cool present: Monkey lurves these sheets. She sleeps with the pillow case each night. No pillow....just the case. Well, Granddad Carter comes to town tonight to spend a few nights with us. And, since we got rid of the guest bed to turn what was the guestroom/closet/office/storage space into Monkey's "Big Girl Room" the only bed in there is a twin. With the Nemo sheets on it. Which Granddad now gets to sleep on. How cute is that?

And, while we are talking about rearranging the apartment for BabyGirlCarter#2, can I just mention that I keep having nightmares about where to keep the freakin' vacuum cleaner? I know, talk about pregnancy hormones and anal-tendencies run amok! But seriously, both Monkey and Ollie are afraid of the vacuum cleaner. So I don't want to leave it just sitting out (plus admit it, unless it's a perfectly clean Dyson on display at MOMA, vacuum cleaners are ugly). But it will have to move from what is presently the "closet" in what is to become Monkey's Big Girl Room. And I use those quotation marks without a sense of irony: this f'ing closet is only 7.5 inches deep. So it's useful for holding the vacuum cleaner, the broom, wrapping paper, and random things like a soccor ball and Ollie's pet carrier. We'll figure out a way to use it for Monkey's clothing (since I know Nana is not going to stop buying pretty dresses for her beloved insane toddler!). But still............the vacuum cleaner. It haunts me! Argh.

Big Sistah, can't resist her....

Red beans and rice....oh never mind, I was channeling "Baby got back" for a minute there....

Monkey picked out her outfit for school today: leggings and the "Big Sister, aka Divine Ruler" tshirt that Uncle N and Aunt G (and HP!) gave her for her birthday. Thanks guys!

The tshirt is white (for now) with pink and red lettering. Combined with green leggings, white sandals, and pink/red/white ribbons on her ponytails, Monkey looked super cute this morning! Just ask the construction worker that whistled at her! (kidding. he just said "mornin' little one" and no I don't think he's a pedophile).

Then, to add onto the preciousness of it all, she insisted on bringing her "I'm a big sister" book with us on the bus, and we read it on the way to school. Not a bad commute if I say so myself! (finally)

Think she'll be that adorable and excited when her little sister ACTUALLY arrives? Really? You do???? Oh thank goodness and THANK YOU for fueling my delusions! You rock.

No, Mommy

This morning was almost perfect.

M and I got up on time, in and out of the shower on time, got to eat our breakfasts in peace (Monkey was sleeping in, hence the peace), and when daddy finally woke up Monkey she was smiling and happy. God, I love mornings like this!

Only then it went downhill when I tried to depant Monkey to 1) change her diaper that was so oversoaked it looked like she had a bowling ball hanging down under her butt and 2) get her in her clothes for school.

That's when the "no, Mommy"s began. Again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again,and again, and I can I stop typing that because you get the idea? Oh thank g*d. (ever notice if you type or say a word too many times it starts to sound like nonsense? or is that just me?)

So, we compromised. She wore her jammies t-shirt under some cute overalls....and, in the interest of world peace and getting to work before 10am, after I put the overalls on Monkey I put the pants to her jammies on OVER her clothes.

And that is how she went to the last day of school for the year. How much do you want to bet at least one of the teacher's brought a camera?

Pantless Zombies

This morning, as I left Monkey's school, I happend to see one of Monkey's favorite classmates - Roman - arriving at school with his mom. Roman is the single-most adorable little boy in her classroom, and this is saying something, as the other little boys really give him a run for the money in cuteness.

I confess that I have a special place in my heart for Roman because on the days that I drop Monkey off and he's already there? When I say bye to Monkey? He'll run to the door and say "bye bye" to me.....even if Monkey is ignoring me! You know, because she's busy and stuff. As if! And yes, I have a magic crystal ball and just witnessed my daughter when she's 13. Oy. Payback's a bitch. Sorry mom and dad! Really! I repent!

But this morning, Roman was curled into a small ball in his stroller, literally balled up, and sound asleep. I commented to his mom that he looked adorable. And her response? "This is stress."

In response to my puzzled look she confessed that he had been throwing temper tantrums this morning, and as a result, he cried most of the subway ride there and thoroughly exhausted himself. Awww, poor guy.

I asked what the tantrum was about, because normally Roman is the "good kid" in the class - the one the teachers always use when explaining role model behavior to the other parents (of non role-model children, like my own insane toddler....).

So, apparently Roman refused to put his pants on this morning, and wanted to come to school in a t-shirt, diaper, shoes and socks. But NO pants.

It was all I could do to keep from bursting into laughter. And think that if this was a zombie movie, Monkey would be Zombie #1...you know, the first one infected with the virus, that runs around like mad biting everyone else and infecting them.

What a great B movie title: Attack of the Pantless Zombies!

Pantless in America

Monkey is developing an attitude about what clothing is allowed upon her person. She has VERY strong opinions about her shoes, shirts, socks and pants.

Matter of fact, she has strong opinions about MY clothing, too - this morning she cried grievously when I declined to wear my Sock Monkey t-shirt under my suit. (Full disclosure - if the sock monkey had been sufficiently covered I would have worn it, just to make her happy...). And yes, I have a sock monkey tshirt by Paul Frank - what, you don't?

I've written about her obsession with her feet...how she screams as if I am branding her feet with hot irons when I try to put her converse hightops on? How she LURVES the ever-so-slightly-tacky hot-pink and silver lame sneakers she picked out? And how she likes to take her socks off and inspect for toe lint? Yeah, I've mentioned that before.

What is new, however, is her thing with her pants. Lately, she's taken to...taking them off. I am choosing to think of this as a good thing - it is one of the signs that tells us she's moving towards potty training. It is an indication of her maturity and ability to take care of herself. Yadda, yadda. Unfortunately, it also means that sometimes, things get interesting.

Like this past Sunday. M put Monkey down for a nap, and she wasn't tired ONE BIT. She'd napped for 35 minutes in the car, when we drove back from brunch in Brooklyn with our friend Kaster. So when he put her down to continue her nap, she declined. And cried in her crib for a good 30 minutes. She cried and muttered and yelled "HI!" and "HELLO!", which are her code-words for get my ass out of this crib now! (That's how she summons us in the morning when she wakes - pretty funny).

I was out for a run, so M finally broke down and went to see what Monkey was up to....and discovered her in her crib, sans pants. Also sans diaper! And.....bien sur mes amies, she'd peed all over her crib. Nice. By the time I got back, Monkey was in clean clothing and the crib was remade, so I missed this insanity. (M is such a rock star dad!)

But then, when I put her down for nap attempt #2? And listened to her cry, talk to her stuffed animals, and yell "HI!" and "HELLO!" for another 30 minutes? I went back into her room and discovered her crying "PANTS!" repeatedly. Why? Because she had taken them off, flung them to the floor, and now she wanted them back. I had to struggle not to giggle...she looked so forlorn, crying for her beloved pants!

At least I'm not the only one with an insane toddler obsessed with her pants...check out my friend Renee's blog for a great laugh! Apparently there is a wave of pantless toddlers sweeping the nation...so far it's hit the East Coast and the Midwest....Mountain States and West Coast? Watch out, you're next for the Pantless in American brigade of insane toddlers!

Top ten reasons Monkey belongs in New York...

1) She can hail a taxi cab

2) Alarms & sirens won't wake her

3) Her breakfast of choice is a (fresh! never frozen) bagel

4) She objects to walking slowly and will break out in a run to get there/anywhere sooner

5) Big kids don't intimidate her

6) Dogs don't intimidate her, either, even when they jump on her and lick her face

7) She likes to look out our windows and watch our neighbors (has no fear of heights)

8) She is a fashion plate, and has VERY strong opinions about her outfits and shoes

9) She loves riding the subway

and

10) She likes Derek Jeter!

Lost hat

So yesterday, as the mercury rose and outside got more and more balmy, Monkey and I went for a walk.

We checked out the local stich-n-bitch shop (translation, yarn/knitting shop). We went to no less than three grocery stores in an attempt to buy pickled jalapenas for chilli. (come ON folks, you've got pickled french cornichons, pickled organic beets, and pickled white asparagus but - what - japlapenas are too common for you to stock? sheesh!). And we generally enjoyed walking around and waving at every single dog and kid that went by.

Then, just as the elevator door opened onto our floor, as Monkey ripped open the bag of Gerber's dehydrated fruit and an explosion of freeze-dried strawberries flew into the air and threatened to choke our lungs, and as I backed out of the elevator and fell smack on my arse (*g*ddam*&it that hurt), I realized that Monkey had lost her beloved hat. Not any old hat, not a screaming oh-hell-no-you-can't-make-me-wear-it-hat, but a hat that Monkey LIKED to wear. In the land of no, this is a precious commodity.

Crap.

Back out I went. Meanwhile dad hosed Monkey off in the tub, since the fr&kg* strawberries stain everything, like our carpet. Sigh.

While I was out, I did not find Monkey's hat.

However, I DID find:

1) one mitten, red
2) one mitten, blue
3) one scarf, handknitted fuschia
4) one stuffed animal
5) one shoe
6) and a partridge in a pear tree.

As I went back to the apartment and ordered another (ok, two - you know, just in case) hat for Monkey, I chuckled. I was comforted by the thought of the city being awash in discarded toddler gear.

Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that your toddler isn't the only insane one in town.

Gifts

Have you ever noticed that the gift often tells more about the giver than the recipient?

To illustrate:

On Christmas eve, Monkey wore an adorable red corduroy dress with black scotties on it. A gift from Nana. On Christmas day, Monkey wore a scrumptious dress with a crinoline and matching red & green barrettes (with wee jingle bells!), also from Nana. And on Christmas day, Monkey opened up a present from Nana - an adorable jumpsuit with a velvet collar.

On Christmas eve, Monkey was allowed to "open" (and by this I mean gleefully shred the paper) one present from Grandma, a stuffed animal puppy dog that talks, plays songs, and chatters away when you press its nose, paw, belly, etc. On Christmas day, Monkey received another riotous, joyfully noisy present from Grandma, in the form of an electronic keyboard shaped like a kitty cat, complete with a microphone for impromptu karaoke sessions. Grandma also gave her a little yellow duck that quacks when squeezed.

Now, pop quiz:

Who do you think has a walk-in closet, and an annual shopping trip with the girlfriends to NYC?

Now, who do you think has kept a basket of toys in the front-hall closet, "just in case" a kid stopped by?

I bet you guessed correctly!

Now, to be fair - both are smashing dressers, and both love toys. Still, it makes me chuckle!

Viva la resistance!

Monkey has apparently been watching the history channel when we weren't paying attention, and has learned from Mahatma Gandhi's biography the tenets of non-violent resistance. She employs these methods when confronted by racism, sexism, apartheid, the war in Iraq, George Bush's policy drivel, hedge fund's taxation at 15%, and other offensive and/or morally repugnant activities.

Recent offensive activities include:

• changing of poopy diaper
• combing of hair
• wearing of clean clothing

When confronted with an undesired activity, she goes limp and flops to the floor like a wet noodle.

She's fighting the power, man.