Glee and the tea kettle

No, that is not a reference to a certain TV show about a high school glee club... it's about my daughter. My one-year-old, in-your-face, karma's-gift-to-my-mother, daughter Elizabeth. I know many a soft parent (for the record, I'm NOT soft) who chide me about being so hard on my kids so young, because they don't know better yet. And to that dear friends I say (cover your ears sensitive ones) BULLSHIT. Sorry, no other phrase for it. If you question me on that, just watch for the look of PURE GLEE on my daughter's face as she 1) runs from me, 2) picks up something she's not supposed to have, 3) escapes from me while naked and 4) grabs a blanket from her brother or me. She DOES know better, folks, and she knows how to get my goat. As for the Tea Kettle, just hear this little one scream... you'll know what I mean.

Exhibit A... running from mom. Our house layout is kind of interesting with our office, living, dining, laundry and master bedroom on the main floor and the two kids rooms, play room and their bathroom upstairs. So while I'm cooking downstairs, I always have to remember to close the door to the Master Bedroom otherwise, she makes her way into my bedroom to wreak havoc on the dog crates, my trash can, my closet, etc. Now... if I forget or don't do it fast enough, she makes a beeline for that room. And if I really want her to run all I have to do is say "Elizabeth... where are you going?" And she will smile with PURE GLEE, giggle and begin running for it. Now she's only been walking for about 2 months, so her running isn't great yet, but BOY can she boogie if I ask her where she's going and again... the look is pure glee. So don't TELL me she doesn't know what she's doing. She knows and she LOVES it.

Exhibit B... picks up something she's not supposed to have. Now kids... my house could be Toys 'R Us (hell, it seems like it is, with 6 grandparents, there are a lot of gifts) but it doesn't matter. Elizabeth only wants the things she CAN'T have. I've tried blocking off the entertainment center with large toys, but she wiggles around them and in no time is turning her Daddy's Xbox on and off, pushing all the buttons on the Wii controllers, trying to eject DVD's from the PS3, or trying to grab a remote control (she'd probably figure it out faster than I can). I try to keep her in the kitchen, but she's instantly in my spice rack, headed straight for my glass pie plates or wandering back into the living room to rip up her brother's coloring books, eat his markers, steal his Clone Troopers, torture the dogs, grab diapers out of the diaper bag or dig in their for her absolute favorite - a tube of Desitin. When she is holding/touching/pushing any of the said forbidden items all I have to do is walk toward her or say her name and she begins running away and, if the item is light enough to carry, waiving it like a victory flag in her little hands as she giggles and runs... again a look of pure glee on that angelic face. I repeat... she knows what she's doing kids.

Exhibit C... naked escape a.k.a "going commando". If this little monkey (as I call her) manages to get away from me sans diaper or sans any clothes, she looks as if she's won the lottery. She begins running about, gleeful look spread across her face and screaming short little tea kettle bursts (ie. high pitched agh! agh! agh!) at me if I try to pull her back down to put the diaper or clothing back on. She will even, smiling the whole time, SLAP my hands and arms as I try to lay her back down. She's a fighter kids... God have mercy on the future playground boys who attempt to get near her. She'll be slapping them silly and screaming their bloody eardrums out. Okay, I admit... that thought makes me say, "THAT'S my girl!"

Exhibit D...blanket grabbing. Elizabeth is currently obsessed with blankets. Putting them over her head (never mind that she walks into stuff that way), wrapping herself in them, nosediving into them, etc. Now this, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. However, she only seems to be interested when I'm in the middle of folding laundry or when her brother is carrying his favorite blanket across the room. Lest you think this is innocent fun... I'm telling you again, she KNOWS what she's doing. Today I was trying to clean up the playroom, so I was folding up some blankets. Talk about ultimate temptation, at the same moment, William was crossing the room with his favorite Batman blanket in hand. Momentarily paralyzed by whom to torture first, Elizabeth then headed for me first and sat on as much blanket as she could so I couldn't fold it. She then began to play our "where's Elizabeth" peek-a-boo game in it until William made the mistake of getting too close and then she snatched his blanket too. Screaming ensued as William attempted to wrest the blanket from his sister without hurting her yelling, "MOOOOOM" while Elizabeth again emitted short tea kettle bursts of "agh! agh!" with each tug. I tried trickery this time and pretended to fold another of William's blankets (his Spidey blanket) thinking she'd go after that one. Not so, kids, not so. She gleefully rolled around in her two captured blankets, giggling and only stopping to look over at me in her best, "aren't I funny?" look.

As for the Tea Kettle. That name was given by my husband when one of Elizabeth's shrill little screams went on so long at dinner that Mike said, "Take her off the stove, she's ready."(for the record, I believe she was under the mistaken impression that that was the way to ask to be excused from the table since she can't use words yet). She has since perfected this little scream and loves to use it whenever she is unhappy with her current situation or in need of attention. She appears envious of her brother's mastery of the English language and has thus decided, this is her road in.

So kids... they KNOW better. Far before they're even a year old. They know. She knows I don't want her throwing her food off her chair to the dogs (she'll even pretend she's not going to and then fling it past my outstretched hand!), she knows I don't want her eating the lovely goodies she finds on the floor, she knows I don't want her "kissing" my newly shined stainless steel refrigerator. She KNOWS folks, she just doesn't care. She knows what makes her happy and that's what counts.

Boy... am I in for it. Cue my mother, laughing hysterically.