Thursday, July 8, 2010

T Time



Yesterday after a rare stretch of quiet during nap time (Yes. A sleeping baby during one of her naps has been an uncommon occurrence in this house as of late. Another rarity: a rested baby) I heard a weird, raspy, throaty sound on the monitor; a new sound, a confusing sound. I knew she was fine, but I had to see whether or not a cat had snuck into her room and hacked up a hair ball.

Pining interlude: Man! It would be nice to have one of those video monitors! One, it would be nice to cut out a few of my many trips up and down the stairs during the day. Two, less tears. Let me explain: in order to see what is going on in there I have to open the door which means she'll see me, which means she'll want me, which means when I inevitably leave again she'll fill the remainder of nap time with pitiful sobs that break my heart, frustrate me, then break my heart again.

Pining over. One, because climbing and descending stairs is good exercise. Two. Still need to think of a second reason to offset the tears.

But back to the uncommon quiet. Every mom or caregiver will tell you when there is silence in a house that contains a child, nine times out of ten said child is up to no good.

The odds weren't in my favor that day. Do you see what is missing?

See it?



There is no way to know for sure what happened that fateful afternoon. After studying the crime scene and reviewing the facts it appears a weak spring mechanism on a mini clothespin coupled with the ceiling fan, set on bluster mode, sent T is for Tree flitting down into Emeline's crib. When I laid her down for her non-nap I never noticed the square of paper, much to my chagrin.

Crumpled and warped, T is for Tree is no longer square. Pitifully the T isn't even legible anymore:


In her little mouth I fished out a soggy wad of paper pulp even Coder refused to touch when I interrupted his work day with the news.


The rest of the alphabet is scared straight; no more horsing around, no more attempts to show off by catching a sweet air wave. I noticed them furtively glancing up at their mini clothes pins, eying the spring, hoping to hang out of harm's way. Who knew such a cute little thing could wreak such havoc?

Better luck next time, T.

Better luck next time.

5 comments:

  1. How is this for irony: we have a video monitor and our child has figured out how to take it down off the wall.

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  2. Fantastic! That gave me the first laugh of the day!

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  3. She's so freaking cute. That last picture is my favorite. I love the little roll above her knee.

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  4. although the story was amusing, i am slightly more interested in the way you wove your bumper pad. :) does it work well that way?

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  5. haha! I miss curious little babies in cribs :) I'll shoot you an email. We'll get a replacement T.

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