We are done with dinner and Sweet Pea is sitting on my desk while I work on computer/desk/household stuff. Normal enough night. She opened up the desk cupboard and is delighting herself with extra credit cards, stamps, rubber bands and all the other treasures that live there. She must have 30 rubber band "bracelets" on right now with another couple dozen shoved into her dress pocket.
While sitting there, she starts making a horrible sound. It is an almost growling sound, deep in her throat. It's a bit like clearing your throat, but louder and more rumbly. It has a slight resemblance to an eight year old boy trying to practice extended belches. It's...
Oh.My.Gawd. I know what it is!
It is the sound of a rubber band wrapped around a toddler's uvula and getting sucked down into her trachea, somehow constricting it and preventing her from breathing!
Spit it out!!! Give the rubber band to me! Agghghghghgh! Sweet Pea, now! Open your mouth!!!
She giggled and opened her mouth wide and then proceeded to speak plenty clearly.
There was no rubber band in there.
I take my own heart out of my own trachea and stuff it back into my thoracic cavity where it belongs and then apologize to her, explaining she was making a funny noise and I didn't know what it was and thought she was choking on a rubber band.
She just giggled some more and started making the noise again. I looked at her puzzled and asked what nose that was and how she was making it. She would just make the noise and giggle, make the noise and giggle, make the noise and giggle, etc. She got me giggling, too, in between telling her that was a really funny noise. So now her routine is make the noise, giggle, scream out "funny noise!", make the noise, giggle, scream out "funny noise!", make the noise giggle, scream out "funny noise!", etc.
Just another wild and crazy night at home. :)
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Nunny Poop Pride
When one considers being a parent and tries to imagine what it will be like, there are all sorts of images that come to mind. One variety is the Moments of Pride.
I imagined I would be proud of first smiles, first steps, first day at school. Looking farther ahead, I would be proud at graduations, promotions, relationships and my child having their own children.
Milestones. Little and big ones. Famous ones and perhaps even seeing some of the less famous ones in my crystal ball.
Recently I've been very proud of Sweet Pea's self-taught potty-training. We weren't planning on it happening. Didn't push the issue at all. Barely brought it up. Figured it was still years away as she showed no signs of "readiness" while all her friends were going so well on their own potties. But then she got it. Just did. No help from us, at all. Hell, I think we discouraged it. Diapers have just become easy.
But she's potty trained now and we're proud. Rather expected.
But what I didn't expect is that a week or so into being potty-trained that she would get a GI bug. After two days of fever and vomiting, the bug finally hit the other end. Quickly and fiercely. M and I had discussed this ahead of time. If it hits her backside, we're going back to diapers for the duration. It was a pact. We felt good about it. We were ready.
But today when it hit, she went right to her potty and just let those "Nunny Poops!" go. (Side note: kid with nasty diarrhea gets damn adorable when they giggle at the sound of the situation and squeal out "Nunnnny Pooooops!" from their potty. Who knew?) I offered the diaper M and I had pre-planned. She replied with a very definite "No!" Instead, she ran back to her potty, and had some more hilarious Nunny Poops.
And she kept doing so. For the better part of the morning. She never went anywhere other than her potty. Never had a diaper on. Managed the whole thing quite well, really.
And I was proud. Proud of my daughter for handling her Nunny Poops so well even though she's only been self-potty-trained for a week or maybe two. My girl's got some skillz, I tellz ya. And I'm proud of her...and her Nunny Poops.
I imagined I would be proud of first smiles, first steps, first day at school. Looking farther ahead, I would be proud at graduations, promotions, relationships and my child having their own children.
Milestones. Little and big ones. Famous ones and perhaps even seeing some of the less famous ones in my crystal ball.
Recently I've been very proud of Sweet Pea's self-taught potty-training. We weren't planning on it happening. Didn't push the issue at all. Barely brought it up. Figured it was still years away as she showed no signs of "readiness" while all her friends were going so well on their own potties. But then she got it. Just did. No help from us, at all. Hell, I think we discouraged it. Diapers have just become easy.
But she's potty trained now and we're proud. Rather expected.
But what I didn't expect is that a week or so into being potty-trained that she would get a GI bug. After two days of fever and vomiting, the bug finally hit the other end. Quickly and fiercely. M and I had discussed this ahead of time. If it hits her backside, we're going back to diapers for the duration. It was a pact. We felt good about it. We were ready.
But today when it hit, she went right to her potty and just let those "Nunny Poops!" go. (Side note: kid with nasty diarrhea gets damn adorable when they giggle at the sound of the situation and squeal out "Nunnnny Pooooops!" from their potty. Who knew?) I offered the diaper M and I had pre-planned. She replied with a very definite "No!" Instead, she ran back to her potty, and had some more hilarious Nunny Poops.
And she kept doing so. For the better part of the morning. She never went anywhere other than her potty. Never had a diaper on. Managed the whole thing quite well, really.
And I was proud. Proud of my daughter for handling her Nunny Poops so well even though she's only been self-potty-trained for a week or maybe two. My girl's got some skillz, I tellz ya. And I'm proud of her...and her Nunny Poops.
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