My little Rooster

Monkey has a new artistic love: sidewalk chalk.

We spent quality time outside this weekend, drawing on the sidewalk and generally getting messy. Monkey looked like a hippy once we were done - her pants looked tie-dyed, she had so many different colors on her! I think I washed our hands 3 or 4 times before I finally got all the chalk out from underneath our nails and ground into our cuticles.

In short, this was a hit.

Unfortunately, Monkey liked it so much she asks for it by name, all.the.time. Why do I say unfortunately? Because she drops the "h" from the word. So "chalk" becomes "calk", only it sounds more like "cawk" or, you know, "cock." Snort.

So yes, my daughter is walking around demanding cock. You know, a rooster! Sheesh, what were YOU thinking??????????

Luke, I am your father

Well, although Monkey has no longer been running a fever, she isn't over this illness. In fact, she has been wheezing and coughing like an old woman that smokes 50 packs a day. So, M took her into the pediatrician's this morning. The wheezing was really making me worried. 

It's been a long week. M and I have been splitting taking care of her during the work day, trying to nurse her back to health, still getting work done, and remembering to sleep at night. Ok, so we do sleep, but we haven't slept through the night all week, either dealing with Monkey's coughing and crying jags, or generally just checking on her to make sure she's ok and still breathing....because you know, at 4am let's face it, we aren't exactly rational.  

We have taken Monkey's temperature so often this week that she actually now tries to do it herself. Oh! I am in LOVE with the Braun infrared digital thermometer. It was actually worth the ridiculous amount of money I spent on it - because it WORKS. I have officially given the one we used to have, made by Vicks that never worked, and given it to Monkey. She tries to take my temperature - an MD in training? So she's not afraid of that any more. Phew! One less toddler-phobia to deal with! 

One the plus side, we are pretty sure that Monkey also will no longer be afraid of the stethoscope. She's got a new, better phobia to replace that one. 

 

Yup, there's a new sheriff in town. It's the nebulizer mask. Aka Darth Vader. M had to hold it over Monkey's mouth and nose for ten minutes. And then, well, it didn't work. So he had to hold it down (and yes, hold her down) for another seven minutes. 17 minutes. Poor thing.

After she wakes up from her nap, we have to fill a prescription for the home version.

"Luke, I am your father." Too bad only me and M will find this funny. Sigh.

A mouse in the house?

Monkey is sick again. Here's hoping it's the last time this "winter" and that soon we are into the cold/cough/booger-free summer months. Nothing too serious, just upper respiratory fug. 

But, she's lost her voice! Now, when she asks for something (that is when she deigns to use her voice instead of whining, grunting, and pointing) it comes out in this impossibly silly little squeak. Quite adorable. 

The complete adorableness (is that a word? hmpfh, it is today) of her voice helps offset the whining. No one likes being sick, and Monkey is cranky.

Of course, when we ask her if she's cranky she says "yesth" and then says "cranky" repeatedly. She's funny.  I swear, she knows which word she should repeat for maximum effect. A born comic, this one. 

Leaving the baby behind...

Monkey is growing up.

Literally and figuratively. And yes, I knew this would happen.

Still, sometimes it takes my breath away to realize just how different she is than the teeny baby with jet black hair (that stuck out straight like she was channeling Joan Jet or Billy Idol!!!) we took home from the hospital.

We just retired her high chair. It was a gigantic red plastic and metal monstrosity, that took up a ton of space in our kitchen. So honestly, I wasn't sad to see it go. Still, sometimes I walk into the kitchen and wonder what is missing.

To replace it, we bought a Stokke Tripp Trapp (used off of Craig's List - score!!). This is a chair that "grows" with the child - i.e., you can take it apart and lower the seat and footrest as the kid gets taller. Monkey loves to clamber up and down, and frequently will request to sit there, even if we aren't eating or coloring with crayons. She also sits on the blue vinyl cafe chairs we have at the kitchen table - she likes to do what we do, and being constrained in a high chair was no longer viable. 

So, adios dear high chair, you served us well. Sorry we had to put you out to pasture....it wasn't you, it was us. No, really. It seems we've just left the baby behind and moved on, I'm sure you understand. 

Conversations

Monkey and I have a lot of conversations. Some of which are actually interspersed with real sentences, spoken in English!

A representative sampling:

Monkey: Sit!
Me: Yes, that's right, you sit in the chair.

Translation: She was standing on the chair and knows better....

Monkey: Preshush?
Me: Sure, you can have pretzels.
Monkey: Yeah, preshush!

Translation: OMFG do I LOVE pretzels! Must scatter them on floor....

Monkey: Ah-bah-dee?
Me: Um, I don't know what that means, can you tell Mama again?
Monkey: Ah-bah-DEE?
Me: Still, no.
Monkey: AH-BAH-DEE!!!!!!!! (going all ugly american and yelling, like volume is a translator)
Me: Yup, um, no.
Monkey: I give up, you are impossible. (ok, she didn't say that, but she sure gave me that look!)