The Grass Was Greener Before We Jumped the Fence

The leaves are morphing into a kaleidoscope of colors. The construction cones are preparing to hibernate for the winter. Mums are replacing Impatiens in gardens all across the city. The sounds of hockey and football have replaced . . . uh . . . nothing, because we don't have baseball in Pittsburgh. (Ahem.) Fall has arrived and change is in the air.

With the change of seasons have come a few changes in my favorite 3-year old. Just like *that* she has gone from wearing nothing but sundresses to genuinely finding joy in jeans and sweaters. Seemingly overnight, she has started speaking like A Kid--not a toddler, not a preschooler, like A Kid. And suddenly, out of nowhere, she has started posing for the camera.

I'll just let that last one settle in for a second.

Ready?

Yes, indeed, the child who has spent her entire life actively making sure she didn't look directly at the camera has suddenly decided that maybe it's fun to pose for Mr. Canon. For years I have resorted to trickery and shenanigans to get her eyes to focus on the lens and suddenly, there they are. Not only is she suddenly willing to look straight at the camera, she has randomly begun asking me to take her picture.

It's so weird.

To celebrate this new found level of cooperation, I thought today would be a fantastic day to stop and explore this barn:

We frequently pass that old abandoned barn during our commute between home and daycare. I kind of love it. The surrounding area is amazing, and quite the change from the bumper-to-bumper traffic I once endured.

As we drove towards the barn, I asked Alexis if she would like to stop and take a few pictures of the barn. "YES!" she eagerly squealed.

"Do you want me to take your picture with the barn?" I asked.

"YES, PLEASE!" she yelled.

Thinking that this may just wind up being the greatest picture day of my life, I pulled off to the side of the road and grabbed my camera. We ran towards the barn, Alexis eagerly explaining that she wanted to go see the animals who lived in the barn, just like in her favorite episode of Signing Time. She broke into song, melodically blaring lyrics about cows and chickens.

As we moved close, I let her get in front of me and started taking photos. She stopped, thought for a second, and then posed.

And again.

And again.

Sooooooooooo . . . how do I get her to go back to that thing where she won't pose for the camera? I'm thinking trickery and shenanigans resulted in better pictures.

That's What I Call a Nightmare

I have long suspected that Alexis has nightmares. I figure that has to be a contributing factor as to why she is so determined to drive me insane at all hours of the night. While she may very well be conducting a top secret governmental experiment to see if you can create a dangerous weapon out of a woman just by depriving her of sleep (answer = yes), I think she truly does start out each night fully intending to do the right thing and stay in her own bed. Someday maybe her good intentions will win out and I'll actually get six hours of uninterrupted sleep. OK, maybe not, but I still hold on to a speck of hope.

I've talked to the short person many times about her bad dreams. I've heard about monsters under her bed, monsters in her bed, monsters hanging from the ceiling, and monsters in the closet. I still remember the days when I was scared of the dark (shut up), so I try to cut the kid some slack. The dark is a scary place. (Again, SHUT UP.)

Last night the kid managed to make it all the way to 5:30am in her own bed. It would have been fantastic, if not for the fact that lately she's been waking up around midnight, so I had sat up waiting for that which never happened. I do believe I heard her yell "PSYCH!" in her sleep at some point. Anyway, she came hobbling into our room at 5:00, visibly upset.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I asked her.

Her bottom lip quivered as she wiped away a tear, "Yes," she whispered.

I gave her a big ol' momma hug and hauled her up into the bed to cuddle for a few minutes. My alarm was close to going off, so I figured I would try to snuggle her back to sleep before it did. I'm trying to let her sleep as much as she can now, because once she is a teen I fully intend to exact revenge for all the sleep deprivation she's putting me through at the moment.

"Do you want to tell me about your bad dream?" I asked.

"I dreamed about Dora and Swiper and Swiper is really mean and he was swiping my toys and Dora was yelling at him."

No wonder the kid can't sleep through the night. If the Latina Whore and her "friend" were invading my dreams, I'd be huddled in the corner rocking back and forth.

Puppet Master

Alexis sat in the middle of a sea of tiny people and furniture, happily playing with her dollhouse. The good news is that she's had that dollhouse over a year and still loves it. The bad news is that she's had that dollhouse over a year and the damn thing still makes noise.

"Ding dong," the thing shouted as Alexis pushed the doorbell button.

"WROOF WROOOOOOOF," Meg loudly responded.

"Mommy, Meg's barking," Alexis reported. I'm glad she did, too, because I totally didn't hear the deep Bulldog barks that were so loud the windows shook.

"Ding dong," the dollhouse said again.

"WROOOOF WROOOOOOOF WROOOOOOOOOF," Meg retorted. Again.

"She's still doing it," Alexis said.

"Ding dong." AGAIN.

"WROOOOOOOF WROOOOOOOF WROOOOOOOF." AGAIN.

"Mommy! Meg is still barking!" Alexis reported.

Sensing that this little pattern could very well go on for hours (or until I flipped out from a severe case of The Crazies), I walked over towards Alexis.

"Ding dong." The kid had lost the ability to keep her finger off the doorbell.

"WROOOOOF WROOOOOF WROOOOOOOF," Meg responded. She apparently had lost the ability to think. She was standing right next to the dollhouse, but still didn't have the sense to realize that the doorbell sound wasn't an indication that a living being was going to walk through the front door. . . . Unless the living being was the size of a flea and marching in our carpet . . . Maybe she imagined that there was a whole army of tiny little people dancing the Macarena and high-stepping their way through the dollhouse door.

"Mommy, Meg won't stop barking," Alexis tattled.

"Ding dong."

"WROOF WROOOOF WROOOOOF."

"Ding dong."

"WROOOOOOF WROOOOF WROOOOOOF."

"Mommy, Meg is barking."

Finally I interrupted and told everyone that I'd heard enough noise. As I managed a glimpse into Alexis' eyes, I could see pure devious joy. It was the look of a kid who had just found the strings to a puppet and was now enjoying making the puppet dance.

A glance at Meg reinforced that Alexis was right. As I looked into Meg's eyes, I realized there really isn't anything going on inside that thick skull.

"Mommy, watch. I can make Meg bark if I push this button," Alexis said.

Heaven help us all if that kid ever decides to use her powers for evil.