Four!

Yesterday Monkey had her 4 year checkup. And, unlike last year, this year she opted to actually participate in the vision and hearing tests! (she passed)

Her weight and height have her in the 35% and 50-75% ranges, as she has been consistently since birth. She put on around 5 pounds this past year, and grew almost 4 inches....all of which happened, I swear, in the last two months! Matter of fact, I bought her shoes in June and she was in 8.5T.....last week (after she got REALLY grumpy about putting her shoes on) I brought her to the shoe store and she's now wearing 10s. Oops!

And, despite some early morning tears when I told her teachers I'd be picking her up early to go to the doctor's office, Monkey was fiercely brave and didn't cry one bit when she got her shots! (she's very proud of this, and reminded me several times of this feat!)

Here she is, fiercely rockin' the bandaids....

An Obituary

Alas, the Dorothy shoes (aka the red sparkly ones Nana gave Monkey for Christmas) have gone on to heaven; they were - officially - loved to death.

Long after all the sparkles on the front had been rubbed off, leaving bald spots....long after I colored in those bald spots with a red sharpie (again and again and again)......they were still worn, and much loved.

Sadly, we bid adieu to them yesterday when the elastic strap gave up the ghost and snapped. Rendering them useless on the foot of a child that runs like the wind.

We took a moment to discuss how Monkey wouldn't be able to wear them any more, and she was sanguine about it.

I was puzzled by this cheerful response to the loss of a loved paid of shoes (since we all know how crazy and particular she is about shoes!) until I heard her say, almost to herself, "it's OK, Nana will bring
another pair when she visits..."

Oh.

And then - uh oh! I can't find them on Target any more.........eek. Anyone know where to buy sparkly red shoes that will please my September issue fashion forward child that runs and runs and runs?

Good bye Dorothy shoes. We'll miss you.

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!

Again with the feet!

So when I picked Monkey up at school yesterday, I heard all about her adventures.

She took her shoes and socks off, time and time again. She put her socks and shoes back on, time and time again.

She took Luke's shoes off of his feet, and then put them on her feet. Ok, eeuw. But apparently Luke didn't mind.

The piece de la resistance? She figured out how to flex her toes and spread them apart (you know, without using her fingers)!!

Grubby little toes

Monkey has a new habit, behavior pattern, or....fetish.

She's obsessed with her feet. Specifically, the lint between her toes, or any crumbs on the soles of her feet.

She LOVES to take her shoes and socks off, and tear around the apartment in her bare feet. Which means that, on occasion, and especially in the kitchen, she'll get something on the bottom of her foot.

In response she'll exclaim "oh oh," drop to the floor and bring her foot up to her face in a circus contortionist's stance to inspect her foot for the offending object. She'll even pull her toes apart to remove any wee bits of sock lint!

I'd laugh, if I didn't do the exact same thing. Minus the gymnastics...eeeeuww, get that image of our your mind.

After she pipes up with "help" and I brush the crumbs off, she'll say "all better." As if the world is spinning on its axis again. Crisis averted!

I don't know what is funnier. The fact that I do the same thing...or that her misery is self-inflicted. After all, she IS the one who dumped an entire container of couscous on the floor the other night.

My DNA made me do it

Do you think a predisposition to shoes is genetic?

That an affinity to shopping can be inherited?

Is it possible that your DNA will direct you to take every single shoe off of the wall at a shoe store and chortle "shooze!" at the top of your lungs, repeatedly and with animation, until you have spent almost 45 minutes focused on that task (a lifetime in toddlerville!)?

Can genetics offer us a window into the mechanism that prompts you to select pink and silver shoes with flowers on them?

If so, modern science, meet my daughter.

Camouflage

Monkey's school has a no-shoes policy in their room. Shoes are piled into a bucket outside their room, to help keep the germs off the carpet & floors, which we all know get licked occasionally (daily? hourly?) by the toddlers....yummy.

Each day, when I pick Monkey up from school, we have a ritual. She sits on the wee bench (her size - so cute!) and we put on her shoes. Unfortunately, during the 48-odd seconds it takes me to lace up her sneakers, Monkey likes to rummage through the bucket. In fact, she will often spurn my attempts to get her shoes on, in order to go rummage through the bucket.

I have two problems with this:

1) She is touching the soles of the shoes....of toddlers who don't know better than to avoid doggy doo and other nasty substances on the sidewalks of New York.

2) She always ALWAYS grabs the same pair of shoes to play with.....and they are ugly. Not only are they the plastic monstrosities known as Crocs, they are a heinous color combination: the plastic is a babysh*tbrown, and the fabric is a tan camouflage. Ew.

Problem #1 can be solved by washing her hands. No problem.

Problem #2 requires more work. Either we need to start watching episodes of Sex & the City together (hello Manolo Blahniks!) OR, Monkey needs to go to Deer Camp on November 3rd so she can get this obsession with camoflague out of her system and switch to either bright red or blaze orange:

Grandpa Larson would be proud.