Spells

All children go through stages. Right now, Sam is in the midst of possibly the most wonderful stage ever. I hope it never goes away. He's lovable, funny, mostly cooperative, and just generally pleasant.

My daughter, on the other hand, is in kind of an opposite sort of stage. A rather rotten one, if I do say so myself. Yesterday she cried for most of the afternoon. Not for any discernible reason, mind you. Just because she was feeling, well, bitchy, I guess. All of the usual things didn't work. Food? More crying. Bath? More crying. TV? More crying. Finally, after a good, solid four hours of on and off wailing, she stopped. She then spent the next forty-five minutes rolling around on the couch with me and giggling incessantly. Just to fuck with my head.

She's also discovered the art of the tantrum, or as we call it in this house, noodling. For example, let's imagine she's somehow connived her way into the bathroom. I always keep the door shut, but Sam is a kind soul and when he sees that she wants the door open, well, he obliges. Once inside, she proceeds to unravel the whole roll of toilet paper. When I discover her and attempt to remove her from the lavatory before she can make any more messes, she freaks out. As soon as I put my hands under her arms to lift her, it's like all of her bones turn into noodles and I can barely take a step without dropping her. Hence, noodling. 

She fights any and all sleep, which doesn't contribute to her mood. Getting her down for a nap during the day is a battle royale. At least by bed time night has fallen. Even the most willful of children have trouble fighting sleep in a dark, warm bed. 

The only respite I have is that I know that this, too, shall pass. Sam went through this stage mightily. I think it has to do with an impasse between newfound physical power and lack of mental capacity. She can get where she wants to go, but isn't allowed in most of those places. She knows what she wants, but cannot communicate that to me. It's the time from when they learn to walk until they learn to speak. 

Luckily, I think she's going to be an early talker.