Sorry About That, Mannequin Friends

I may never figure out how to stop Mila from climbing on the kitchen table to eat her waffle every morning, but I have mastered the art of keeping the dogs out of the places they don't need to go. Between baby gates and strategically placed box fans, the fuzzy creatures lead a life on the outs.

It's for the best. Trust me.

The thing about blocking doorways all over the house is that sometimes I need to go to those restricted zones. A smart person would pick up the box fan obstruction and move it aside. I am not smart. I very often step over the fans, which means I very often misjudge the whole situation and wind up tripping, knocking something over, or breaking a toe.

So, yeah. That happened. I misjudged a step and whacked my foot against a doorway last week. I did it so well that I should get a gold medal for dumb. My poor tiny little toe ...

I tell you this not so I can get sympathy. I fully own the stupid that was that moment and whatever. It's a toe. There are far worse injuries in this life. I'm telling you this because it's necessary in order to fully appreciate a little story.

Dance class. It has started back up. Somewhere between Alexis' pure glee and the moment I realized I was in a room surrounded by moms eagerly discussing gluing sparkles to t-shirts, I ran. Well, hobbled, really. I hobbled my way to the car and then to the mall because the best way to deal with dance stuff is retail therapy. I had an hour to run through the mall and no Mila with me, so that's basically long enough to go into every single store. A toddler in tow means you have enough time to get out of the car and then right back in it, you know?

So I hobble-dashed into The Limited with my eyes set on the clearance racks. I've had some solid luck there lately, with $10 pants suddenly being a very real thing. As I worked my way to the back of the store, a shirt caught my eye, so I quickly veered to the left.

As I veered, something happened. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but the result was that a hand fell to the ground. In the split second it took me to realize it was a mannequin hand and not a human hand (PHEW!),I forgot to move out of the way. That means a hand fell on my broken toe. Which, WOOOOHBOY.

I'd like to not repeat that moment.

As I ripped my foot out from under the hand, I hobbled a bit. I hobbled just enough to run full force into a different mannequin, one that still had two hands, and ... you can guess how that ended.

The good news is that I make a most excellent football player. I can level a bunch of (fake) people in no time flat. The bad news is that apparently I clear a room best when I've got a broken toe.

So, hey. Anybody have any idea why Alexis so frequently gets attacked by the floor? I can't figure out how she's such a klutz. Ahem.


(She's a klutz who rocks at weird dance poses and such. It's extra weird.)


Tag Team

I don't know where to thank the girls or knock their heads together, but they decided to have tooth drama at the same time. Is it better to get it over with? Or is it just another way for the universe to laugh harder in my face?

In case you have forgotten, I super duper hate teeth. I most especially hate that part where the tiny people suffer through teeth coming in only to lose them a few years later. It's a giant pile of stupid, you know. SO LET'S HAVE BOTH THINGS HAPPEN AT THE SAME TIME.

Mila has been fighting the molar wars for a while now. I remind her to get her hands out of her mouth approximately every 2.3 seconds. The good news is that she's mostly pleasant through it all. She's just ... off.

Still. Getting teeth is stupid.

But losing them is stupider.

Somehow it didn't dawn on me that we weren't done with loose teeth with Alexis. I don't know why, it just didn't occur to me that there were more than we dealt with a few years ago. Alas, all of the bigger teeth are a thing.

A sudden, gross thing.

The good news is that Alexis understands how very much I don't want to hear about wiggly teeth hanging by a string and all of that. I don't want to see the loose teeth, I don't care for the bloody void when they fall out, and I basically don't want to know anything. All of that is why Alexis jumped into my car the other day and declared, "I lost a tooth today! I won't tell you about how it was all bloody and hanging by a thread after I bit into a cracker because I know you don't like teeth."

It was sweet of her to spare me the details. OR NOT.

She then proceeded to "not" tell me many, many more details.

And then it happened. I yelled, "NO MORE ABOUT THE TOOTH I CAN'T TAKE IT LA LA LAAAAAA!"

Seriously. Literally. I yelled that. I am a mature adult and stuff.

Alexis, caught off guard by my sudden yelling, jumped and then started falling over laughing. It's hilarious when I squirm, don't you know.

In the midst of her giggle fest, she dropped the tooth. SHE DROPPED. THE. TOOTH. IN MY CAR.

She never found it. I didn't help her look for the most obvious reasons, but the point is she couldn't find it. It's still in my car. That makes TWO teeth loose in my car, which means I really super need to just go ahead and set the thing on fire. Shhhhh! Don't tell the insurance company!



She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

Mila is and will likely always be the tiny person with the big independent streak. For as much as she is very much so 2, she's also very much so 22. She can do it herself, thank you very much.

It doesn't matter what "it" is. She knows she can do it. Alone. Without you. Buh-bye.

I've often wondered how far she is willing to take her "I don't need you" thing, so when we happened to be at Home Depot essentially alone, I decided to find out. We had the outside area to ourselves as I sought out a few things for the pond, so when Mila ran down an aisle towards the back, I made like Elsa and let it go.

"Bye, Mila," I said, just to make sure she knew I wasn't chasing her down.

"Bye, mommy," she threw over her shoulder as she kept running.

It's lovely that she cares about being left alone and stuff.

As Mila ran off, I surveyed the scene. There was nobody around, save the cashier across the garden center. There was nowhere for Mila to go thanks to walls and fences. Really, the only damage she could do would have been to pick up a giant brick and throw it. Which, well, the bricks weigh more than her. That's why she's still the Tiny Human. If she wanted to pull off a Herculean moment, so be it.

So I let her take off.

I watched from another aisle to see how long it would take her to worry that she didn't know where I was.

And I waited.

And I waited.

Mila couldn't see me and she TOTALLY DIDN'T CARE.

I gave it over 10 minutes before I finally snagged the kid. LITERALLY. Ten minutes. There was not a single second in which she cared that she didn't know where I was. She poked at the bricks, walked in circles, talked to herself, and basically gave no honey badgers that she was alone in a giant scary store.

This. This kid who will wander into the big world all by herself without hesitation - she is the same kid who recently hasn't slept more than 10 minutes without touching me.

Nobody ever said toddlers make any sense...