A Prisoner of All Things

I most certainly don't know where she gets it from (ahem), but Mila is such a night owl. She hates mornings with a fiery passion and thrives in the space between sundown and sunrise. She can be about to fall over from exhaustion at 7:00, but girlfriend wants to throw a party once 9:00 rolls around.

Like I said, I have no idea where she gets it from. Ahem.

It all makes bedtime very interesting.

Tonight we achieved a new level of "interesting," in no small part because the child who I SWEAR was asleep when I laid her down, sprung up, yelled "HOORAY!" and then proceeded to party in her crib. She was perfectly content with her party of one, except that she insisted that I be a spectator. I tried to leave her room three times and let her be at peace with herself, but she was having none of that. I believe her exact words were, "You. Woman. Sit. NOOOOOOW."

So I sat.

And waited.

I waited as she threw all sorts of fun stuff out of her crib. I waited as she collected four pacifiers and carefully studied them to determine which one she likes best. I waited as I waited as I waited. I did all of the waiting.

Mila tried to destroy her hot air balloons. She threw her blanket out of the crib. She screamed to have her blanket returned to her crib. She did a little dance. She studied the light on the ceiling.

An hour passed by and she just kept partying. The only time she complained was when something "fell" out of her crib. "Whoops!" she said as she shoved it out.


She also complained when I tried to leave. So, I sat in the chair.

Just when I thought I couldn't possibly be more of a prisoner in my own house, Max showed up.

He was like, "Yo, you put that thing in a cage. I think maybe I approve."

So he stayed.

And he stayed.

And he stayed.

Max would have stayed there for hours, happily purring as the Tiny Human served his every need. He didn't, though, because apparently cats don't find it particularly sweet when babies shove pacifiers in their mouths.

Who knew?

So now I need to take a roll of duct tape up to Mila's room. If you're wondering whether the duct tape is for the baby or the cat, you go ahead an try to figure that out. I'll wait.


13 Months of Tricks

So. Hey. This kid has been around for 13 months now.


I still spend most days trying to decide if she's real or not, but there you go. She's 13 months worth of real. She's also 13 months worth of prankster.

No joke.

The amazing that is Tiny Human is all about the pranks. She is constantly doing everything possible to make everyone laugh. It ranges from sticking her tongue out to pretending to share her food with you then ripping it away just as you're about to take a bite. She cackles with glee every time she makes someone laugh or thinks she has tricked someone.

She super loves to trick people.

Which is the only reason I can think of for why she's not walking yet. She is no closer to walking today than she was six months ago, which is fascinating to me. She will push around walking toys at top speed. She cruises walls and furniture like a pro. But the second she doesn't have anything to hold on to? She sits down.

Just plops.

There's no drama or anything like that. She flat-out refuses to walk. It's like it's not an option in her mind. She can crawl where she needs to go, or even better, she can trick someone into carrying her everywhere.

I have absolutely no doubt that she's capable of walking.

She just doesn't.

Which means that when the moment is just right and she thinks she has landed herself a great opportunity to screw with me, she's going to walk. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but it's coming.

Keeping your mom on edge is the ultimate prank.