Slippery When Wet

"Zora," I say hoisting her out of the tub and placing her on the bath mat, "stay right there."

I may as well have placed her in front of bowl of chocolate ice cream and told her not to eat it. Zoom, she and her tiny toddler tushy shot out of the bathroom and...

Well, laminate floors are quite slick when wet.

As Rodney tells it: "I saw her feet first. She looked like a naked torpedo with red hair. A very surprised one."

The naked red-headed torpedo flashed us each a puzzled look as if to say, "how d'ja do that?"

That's when she submitted to the usual routine: being wrapped in an oversized towel by Daddy, all the while singing the theme song to Rocky.

No en la boca!

I hear a rhythmic squeaking coming from the backseat, like the sound of a wet finger rubbing on a window pane.

Eee er eee er eee er.

At the stop light, I turn around and look. Zora has her blue Croc in her mouth. Apparently teeth on PCCR is a delightful sound.

Eee er eee er eee er.

"Zora!" I admonish. "No en la boca! Ba! Yuck!" She squeaks once more and is silent.

Later that day, I have to tell her not to eat the following:

• The pulpy, red berries the Hawthorne tree deposits in our parking lot.
• A rock.
• A petrified Goldfish cracker from under her carseat.
• Fluorescent pink Play-dough ("Cheese!," she exclaims before stuffing it into her mouth)
  
• A noo noo (noodle) that went overboard and landed on the carpet during dinner.

And I thought this everything-goes-in-the-mouth-stage was over. Sigh.

I've Heard of Penis Envy, But....

"Nursey!" Will demands the minute Jodi walks in the door.

"Okay. We'll nursey," Jodi replies, gathering Will in her arms and settling in on our couch.

Zora eyes the tender moment on the couch, looks at me and says, "Nursey?"

"No, baby," I start, but I'm too late. She crawls into my lap, lifts my shirt, and starts searching for...a milk bottle?

"Sweetie," I say, squeezing her, "nursing is a 'use it or lose it' proposition, and we have lost it."

She studies me, unconvinced, lifts my shirt again, and checks out my belly button. Eventually, we compromise with a cold bottle of moo juice and some cuddle time.

Today, the same scenario plays out, but I am cooking dinner, and Rodney is on the couch opposite Jodi and Will.

Zora crawls onto Rodney's lap, looks at him with her earnest brown eyes, and lifts his shirt. "Nursey?"

Happy Mama's Day!

I didn't know that the Terrible Twos are a misnomer, but I guess they have a better ring than the Terrible 18-24-Month-Olds. I really miss my sweet little baby lump who didn't move and was content to lay in her bucket while I shopped.

Yesterday she laid waste to the toddler shoe section of Target, refusing to try on anything but a tiny princess-ey jelly slipper before escaping from my clutches with one size 7 high-heeled, straw sandal. Frantic, I zoomed after her and panicked for about three seconds before I heard the shrieking. I followed the cries to Children's Clothing where I found her lying face down in the carpet done in by the very sandal that had abetted her escape.

Two minutes later, she threw another fit (she couldn't comprehend that removing all the bathing suits from the rack and throwing them on the ground is frowned upon), and tried to crawl away from me.

Did I mention that she took a swat at me and beat Will over the head with a block the day before?

Did I mention that she won't eat anything but fruit and ice cream and pasta and pizza?

Did I mention that she crawled through the frozen food aisles of Safeway in non-violent toddler protest because I wouldn't let her stand in the shopping cart and dance on the yogurt and cereal?

Did I mention that my child IS the biter?

However, even though I cannot wait for her to go to bed at night, I also cannot wait to see her face every morning.

Words Misunderstood

Demands mew-kak in the car. "Wheels on the Bus" is a favorite.

Shouts sexy! when she sees a taxi.

Needs a bang-kak to cover up at night-night time.

Points to my round-bellied Buddha statue and says boo-ta. Sounds suspiciously like a very bad word in Spanish. Needless to say, Mauricia was alarmed until I translated.

Announces mocos! and presents a booger-covered index finger to us with delight.

First Haircut