I caught Emmy climbing INTO her crib yesterday. Yes. INTO. From the floor. Not from a chair or a dresser or her sister's inert body. From the floor. She was perched on the top rail, one fat foot wedged in between two slats, and one making the final push to get over. I discovered her in this position. She was so proud. It reminded me of the Day of the Swan Dive
She may have had a slightly unfortunately landing, quite possibly by my hand.
We don't like Ideas in this house. Ideas are the seed of anarchy.
Her tiny brain has not yet made the connection between getting IN and getting OUT, but I fear it is only a matter of time.
I had a need for Costco hot dogs on Saturday. Mmm, Costco hot dogs...
Shut up. You have a terrible food you love, too.
Anyway, as I was saying, I had a NEED. We were driving on our way to fulfill that need (I also had a shopping list to legitimize this craving-fulfillment trip), when all of a sudden there was a mattress flying through the air at our van.
Jeremy swerved, I thought we'd missed it, and then sprsssshhh! (or however you think the textual representation of exploding glass should look) from the backseat. It was like in the movies, when everything slows down. I turned around right away, but in my head it was all slow motion and distorted yells, because I was sure I would see The Child completely covered in blood, possibly missing an eye.
Well, she was screaming and covered in glass, but otherwise okay. I got her out of there and took off her shirt and shook it out just as the guy who lived in the house we'd stopped in front of poked his head out the front door and gave us a strange look like, "Utahns and their weird kid habits." Whatever. Anyway, I got her all brushed off (not even the ittiest, bittiest scratch on her) and picked the worst of the glass out of her booster and the back of the van.
With my hands wrapped in grocery bags, I still managed to get a cut and a few tiny shards embedded in my face, so I consider it a miracle that she was completely fine after glass came flying through the window at her head.
All for a stupid hot dog. But they're delicious and satisfying. I think it's probably the nitrates.
Grace thinks that the broken window is the coolest thing ever to happen in the history of her short life, and alternates between milking it for all it's worth ("It was scary Mommy, can I have a cookie?") and reenacting it for anyone who looks at her for more than four seconds ("And the window went sprsssshhh! and I was like, 'Aaaugh!' and then I cried, and Mommy got me out, but I was a trooper, and then we had a hot dog at Costco.").
It's getting super annoying. Cute to everyone else, but sometimes I miss the days when she had the memory of a goldfish. Alas.