You took your first ride on an airplane this month. And you did surprisingly well! I was convinced that you would be a royal terror during each flight, but thankfully your royal terror-ness was blissfully limited to small chunks of the long legs of the flight. Being on a plane for 4+ hours is tough on an adult, so it only makes sense that a toddler would lose his/her noodle too. You are an excellent sleeper when you're in a crib or in a Pack-n-Play. But sleeping on my shoulder? Yeah, it's not your strong point. And airplanes aren't equipped with a crib or a PNP, so all that was left was my shoulder. And you had no problem displaying your distaste with your sleeping option. You fought sleep like crazy. And you fighting sleep sounds very similar to a screeching pig. I got some glares from the other passengers, but thankfully, most people gave me a reassuring look that said "Oh goodness, I've been where you've been."
We spent a week with Aunt Lisa, Uncle Rich, and Cousin Taylor in California. You hadn't seen them since Christmas. And when you're your age, 6 months is a LIFEtime. So they were really excited to see how much you've grown and what kind of cool tricks you can do. One of your favorite parts of the trip was Aunt Lisa's Bucket o' Sugar. She keeps a bucket filled with Apple Jacks and Blueberry Muffin Shredded Wheat right at toddler level. So once you figured out where it was, you carried it around the house pretty much 24/7. I try to keep you on a pretty healthy diet, so while seeing you shove handfuls of Apple Jacks into your mouth made me shudder a bit, I just kept telling myself that we were on vacation, and that it wasn't a huge deal. Because now that we're home? Yeah, it's back to plain Cheerios. And you don't know how to say "But Mooooooommmm! Aunt LISA lets me eat Apple Jacks!", so a big fat HA on you, kid.
You love pointing out body parts. And asking you where certain parts are is the only way I've gotten you to be still for a few nanoseconds while I change your diaper. You're good at showing me where your knee is. And foot, toes, arm, head, eye, mouth, and belly button. Your track record isn't the best when it comes to your ear, cheek, hair, and nose. Those body parts are all interchangeable in your eyes.
You also love playing with your animal puzzles. You've gotten really good at them. And you've gotten so good that you like to pretend that you don't know where the pieces go. For instance, you'll have a pig in your hand. You put the pig where it should go on the puzzle, look at us for applause (Team Smith is all about some clapping), then you smile to yourself and put the pig where the horse should go. Then you giggle. A lot. You find yourself pretty hilarious. Daddy and I do, too.
We taught you some more animal faces this month. You don't do them very consistently ... but when you do, LORDY is it cute! For a hippo, you open your mouth really wide. For a frog, you stick your tongue in and out of your mouth really quickly. For a horse, you blubber your lips together (it sounds more like the Jetson's car than an actual horse, but it's still pretty funny). For a sheep, you laugh ("ha ha" sounds fairly similiar to "baa baa"). Aunt Amanda taught you to flap your arms like a chicken, but your flapping arms look like you're frantically hailing a cab. I'm amazed at how quickly you pick things up. You're the most adorable little sponge I've ever met.
I took you downtown a few times this month to play in the fountains at Plaza de Luna. And you love them. No, that just doesn't seem strong enough. You LOVE them. You, my bath-hating daughter. You, my please-don't-ever-pour-water-on-my-head-because-it's-a-fate-worse-than-death daughter. You, you walking conundrum, love the fountains. You love getting hit in the face with the water. You love running through the water. You love sitting on the fountains. So WHY do you hate baths? Hmmm? HMMMM?
And speaking of WHYs, WHY do you insist on pitching a fit every time we leave you in the church nursery? I'm quite sure they don't poke you with hot pokers. I'm quite sure they don't feed you gruel. And, most importantly, I'm quite sure they don't give you a bath. So what's the problem? Daddy and I miss going to Sunday School together. We're taking a marriage class and it would be more beneficial if both members of this marriage could particpate in the class together. Because right now, either I take you home, or Daddy and I tag-team walking you around the church while the other goes to class. But we're gonna keep trying, because I know that one day, you'll love being in there. They have a ball pit - how could you not think that's completely awesome?!
Daddy and I gave you your first chore this month. You are now the official diaper-throw-away-er. It's about time you started earning your keep around here, and I can think of no better job than for you to discard your own waste. Thankfully you'll happy oblige every time I ask you to take your diaper to the trash, but alas, you happen to be the slowest diaper-throw-away-er in the history of diaper-throw-away-ers. We're taking about a 10 foot trip, from where I change you to where the trash can is. But that 10 foot trip takes you forEVER. You're not unlike Billy from The Family Circus cartoon. Here's how the process goes:
Nat: *you take the diaper*
Momma: "Natalie, please throw the diaper in the trash can."
N: *holding up the diaper and pointing to the trash can*
M: *nodding encouragingly* "Yep! That trash can right over there! Now scoot!"
N: *lots of giggling; pointing to yourself as if saying "Oh, you want ME to throw it away? This diaper I have in my hand? This one right here? You want me to take THAT to the trash? Really??"
M: *trying not to laugh* *failing horribly*
N: *meandering aimlessly, though thankfully in the general direction of the trash can*
M: "Natalie, go! To the trash can! Now!"
N: *more giggling* *getting distracted by toys along the way*
M: "Natalie Jane! Go. To. The. Trash. Can. Now. Please."
N: *offering ME the diaper, as if you're saying "Oh Momma, you do such a better job than I do. Why don't YOU throw it away FOR me?"
M: "Not a chance, munchkin. Now go!"
(what seems like) 12 hours later, you FINALLY make it to the trash can. Then you hold the diaper over the trash as if you're reconsidering my request (demand). And then finally (FINALLY) you drop it in the trash can.
Seriously. You're practically ready for another diaper change in the time it takes you to throw it away. But it's your chore. And I'm trying to teach you some responsibility. I'm totally happy with your eagerness. We just need to work on your speed and focus. But your adorableness and sense of humor? Couldn't be better.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
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Headlines from June 1, 2010:
- Coast Guard warned day after rig blast that blown-out Gulf well could leak 336,000 gal. a day
- Women Are Shunning Nutritious Foods, Study Reveals
- Hugh Laurie on Leaving ‘House M.D.’ After Season 7
- ‘Devastated’ Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe Shoot Final Scene of ‘Harry Potter’
- Obama, Brewer Meet on Arizona Immigration Law
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