Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Fall Arrives. More Rain Indoors and Out.
My ambitions are limited: I'm just trying to do some dishes, which doesn't seem like too much to ask.* "It's raining inside!!" my 2 1/2 year old sings out and hoists up the umbrella. Mostly hoists. It covers her upper body and careens drunkenly.
"We need...our rain boots," says the umbrella and I abandon the sink in favor of the closet and some boots. "You need to put your <sing-song> raiiiin boots onnnnn </end sing-song >" says the umbrella, before the girl re-emerges. "Here," she says, "I will help you. Put your foot in there" I obey and am sufficiently protected.
Next come the rain coats, which I veto and she sighs, before I return to the sink and lo and behold, the wily below-roof clouds have dried up and it has stopped raining. After commanding me to take my rain boots off, she takes matters into her own hands and wraps herself around one of my legs, aggressively tugging. This pretty much wins the award for least efficient boot removal, apart from being an amusing balance test. I volunteer to take them off and she agrees with an air of long-suffering ("thank you for lightening my burden...after all.this. time...")
She then flounces off to announce from the other side of the kitchen: "It's raining inside again!" I dive to share the shelter of her umbrella, while she giggles. "I'm taking CARE of you," she intones, before jabbing me in the eye. She is relatively indifferent to this turn of events, though I'm slightly bitter, as I hadn't really been wet to begin with; "Oh! My car windows are slightly open!" She abandons me to do something fiddly with the nearby dining room chair, which also magically closes her car windows. "Ok, they're closed now."
Note: This excessively quick weather turn-around is also repeated for the cruel and fake napping game, in which this same toddler will cajole//bully her parents into getting snuggly under their covers; will turn off the lights only to almost immediately declare it's time to wake up and precariously stepping on pillows to either side of our heads** so she can turn on the A.) two dimmish wall sconces and the B.) very bright overhead light.***
*And really, what a sad thing to ask, if one can muster the energy to ask a question.
** "<sing-song> I'll be carrrrreeeeeful! </sing-song>" less than accurate
*** gleefully delivered, "Is this too *BRIGHT*?" Our affirmative answers never lead to her turning it off again.