I remember a time long ago in the days of our parental innocence when our beautiful, sweet, adoring niece Emmalynn was a two-year-old tornado of terror. Jeff and I would present an empathetic ear to her poor, tortured parents while simultaneously trying to hold back our giggles that would inevitably be biting to get out. Later we would hold our teeny tiny miracle that was our newborn, and we would laugh and talk about just how funny that particular antic had been, and how incredibly relieved we were that we were not her parents.
It turns out payback really is about as nice as they say.
Peyton has turned into a mini-Emmy.
In the last two weeks, she has had an explosion of discovery and self-sufficiency. And to make matters worse, creativity seems to strike in the wee hours of the morning when Mommy and Daddy are out cold.
Examples:
Nov. 1: Yeah. Halloween candy*? Everywhere. Wrappers strewn about the apartment, half-eaten suckers adorned the furniture, and one chocolate-y faced wake up call. After surveying the damage, I asked her why she had been so naughty that morning. Her response? "It was ax-dent, Mommy." As in, I couldn't help it, Mommy, all of these candies just jumped out of their wrappers, and I did everything I could to clean it up for you.
*Halloween candy was not put up due to an overly trusting and forgetful Daddy
Two weeks ago: Potty training is a no-go, but the squirt does not appreciate a poopy diaper. Immediately upon filling said diaper, she rushes off to get naked in another room and then brings the offending mess in for us to clean up. After about the third day of this, any silence longer than 30 seconds is immediately investigated. As a result, when you are not in the room, Peyton loudly asks, "Mooooommy!!! What are you doing out there?"
Last week: Child decided that she wanted to wash her hair. Found her covered in baby shampoo. In our bed. Not a fun discovery.
Also last week: Peyton decided that she wanted to brush her teeth. Panicked Mommy woke up to her crawling into bed, with a look of extreme satisfaction, saying, "Mommy! Mommy! I... *urp* brushed my teeth!! *urp* Mommy? *points at urp* What's that? *urp*"
*This lead to the purchase of handy baby-proof doorknobs that she has yet to be able to work out a solution to. Key word: Yet.
Monday: Awoken to child running into our room, shouting, "POTATO! POTATO! POTAAAAAAAAAAAATO SANDWICH!" Went out to living room to discover that she had pushed down the gate to the kitchen to find not only two potatos, but also two slices of bread that would serve as the basis for her potato sandwich. When asked if the sandwich was good, she replied, "No, mommy. Was yucky. I want eggies. Peeeeeas."
Wednesday: Apparently the coffee table was not clean enough for her particular needs, so she got into the kitchen to get a bottle of dish soap. She then proceeded to dump the entire contents (estimated at approximately 3/4 of a bottle) onto the table. Woke up to an overwhelming smell of soap, and found a nice toilet-seat-shaped of bright blue soap that had made it to the floor. Our carpet? Still blue. Not to mention Mountain Fresh.
This morning: Hungry once again, she pushed down the gate leading to the kitchen to get Daddy's cereal and a (dirty) bowl she found in the sink. Woke up to the tinkling of cereal hitting the coffee table, and then after calling Peyton into our room (first answered with "What are you doing in there, Mommy?"), she let us know that she needed a spoon. Jeff went out to assess the damage, and came back to inform me of the specifics. I told Peyton that she was a little girl, and if she needed help making breakfast she needed to ask Mommy because Mommy is a big girl, and that it was not something that little girls were supposed to do on their own.
Her response?
"Daddy is a little girl, Mommy. A big one."
Some days, the naughty is so worth it.
