Unprompted, part II

This morning, while driving Reilly to school, Shawn called to check in on how our morning was going. She was in the car herself, en route to Orlando. My answer: we overslept, Reilly is whiny, and I haven't had any breakfast yet.

When I got off the phone, Reilly asked if I was just talking to her mommy. I told her that I was, and that her mommy said to be sure to tell her that she loved her.

Reilly was quiet for a moment, then said, "I love mommy THIS MUCH," and to illustrate her love, stretched her arms out as far as she could.

I asked her how much she loved her daddy, and without a moment's thought, she moved her hands about twelve inches apart.

Unprompted

When Shawn is away, Reilly always asks to sleep in "mommy and daddy's bed." When she asked to do so last night, I told her that she had to be a big girl and sleep in her own bed, an answer which had the effect of turning on her waterworks.

I waited through about five minutes of her crying before I relented and carried her over to our room.

When I put her in bed, she asked me to stay with her for a minute. "Just one minute," I said, and eased myself in next to her.

A few minutes later she had settled in and the room was quiet, except for a quiet whirring from the overhead fan. It was then that she rolled on her side to face me and said, "I love you, daddy."

No introduction necessary

Yesterday evening Shawn, Reilly and I met up with my old friend Shannon and her children Pilot and Rowe. Though Rowe is 8 or 9 months older than Reilly, they started playing the very second their eyes met, which made me think of how awesome it is to be a kid, to be so unselfconscious and so pure of heart that a friend can be made in just moments.

Fine, but don't expect a birthday party!

I know that parents say that their child seems to grow up overnight, and to hold on to every precious moment because the next thing you know your baby will be all grown up, but I have to say I was a bit skeptical when I returned from Texas and Reilly announced to me that she had turned 4.

When we first started potty-training Reilly, we gave her an M&M for each time she made a successful deposit into her little plastic potty. As time wore on, Reilly began demanding one M&M per year that she had been on this earth.

At first I couldn't figure out why Reilly had made herself four-years-old at the tender age of three, but as she came striding proudly out of the bathroom with four fingers held up this morning, I realized that there was at least one benefit.

The only person not enjoying our vacation

Upon learning that Reilly’s astrological sign was “Cancer,” I recall my mother saying that she would grow up to be a homebody. I laughed this off, I mean, my daughter is one of the most active children I know, and this constant motion made it all the more vexing when my active child did in fact turn out to be a homebody.

Case in point: On the way home from a side-trip to see a waterfall today, Reilly said, “I want to go home. Not the cabin—home!”

Little Miss Sensitive

I might have mentioned in a previous entry, but there was a period of a couple of days in which Reilly sang a sad song [as she described it] to herself, a song which made her breakdown in tears. I recall feeling amazed at the depth of emotion that she was capable of, and also a little bit unnerved.

I am just remembering now how Reilly—as a baby—would cry whenever we sang the song “Twinkle, Twinkle” to her, so much so that we stopped singing it altogether.

The other night, Shawn was singing to Reilly “You are my sunshine” while snuggling her into bed. Shawn’s two-verse version goes something like this, with Reilly’s reactions in [brackets].

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You’ll never know dear how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away. [Reilly begins crying.]

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
When I awoke then, I was mistaken
So I held my head and I cried. [Reilly sobbing and holding her head.]

Don't worry, they'll be back

Reilly has been very interested and active in the different stages of sleep lately—and not just the going to sleep part, of which she is still the master manipulator/delayer/pain-in-the-asser, but also the dreams that come with sleep.

The other night Shawn sang to Reilly a song that her grandmother used to sing to her:

Now run along home
And hop into bed
Say your prayers
And cover your head.

The very last thing
That I’ll say to you:
You dream of me
And I’ll dream of you.

To this, Reilly said, “I’ll dream of you, mommy.”

In the morning, when Reilly trudged sleepy-eyed into our room, the first thing she said was, “My dreams are gone, mommy.”

Huffing and puffing

Today as we drove down the dirt road to the cabin, Reilly had the following conversation with Shawn:

“We can’t take a trip yet ‘cause I’m not bigger. I’m just still smaller.”
“Oh, and what do you like to do now that you’re smaller?”
“Play soccer, football, read little pigs and play croquet.”

One small gesture

Last night, Reilly called me into her room not long after we had put her to sleep and told me, “I don’t think I like my bed,” which is code for “I want to sleep in mommy and daddy’s bed.”

Typically I don’t grant this wish, but I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t have it in me to fight it out with her, so I put her in our bed and settled in next to her to wait for the sandman.

Unfortunately, I kept coughing, and each time I did so, Reilly would stir, put her little hand on my forearm, and say, “Daddy, are you sick?”

The bathtub: it's not just for bathing anymore

I have discovered that there is one drawback to Reilly learning how to swim. Last night, while in the bathtub, Reilly decided to demonstrate her "big kicks" and after flipping over to her belly, proceeded to churn and splash the water with her little legs and feet. Afraid to discourage any type of swimming, I let her go, and the result was about a quarter inch of water all over the bathroom floor.

She's a guppy

Reilly has been taking swimming lessons with a local woman who does intensive ten minute sessions five days a week for four to six weeks. I was skeptical about this style of learning, and after two days of Reilly crying for ten minutes straight, we were all wondering if this was the right thing for her. Then, on day three, she just started swimming--just like that--and now we can't get her to take her bathing suit off.

My, how far we've come

While we lived in The City, there was a time that I watched Reilly two days a week as a Mr. Mom type fellow, and on those days, when I needed to take a shower, I would load Reilly up in her Exersaucer, put on some Barney, and head to the head.

Reilly loved that Exersaucer, and so did I, so it was of no surprise when she asked to be put in her little friend Lila's Exersaucer while we were over visiting her this past weekend.

From the picture above, one would think that Reilly is still a little tot, that she is merely a sprite, a small child who still endearingly fits into the small plastic business centers designed for toddlers and parents alike--but then you would be mistaken, for the shot above is only from the waist up, whereas the photo below tells the true story:

Perhaps she took me a bit too literally

This morning, Reilly told me that she wanted to turn on the light in the pantry, and I offered to pick her up to reach the cord, but she insisted that if she had a chair to stand on, that she could pull the cord herself.

I tried to explain to her that she would not be tall enough to reach the cord—even with the chair—but my daughter likes to learn through her own experiences, so she climbed up on the chair and put her hand out for the cord but was woefully short of reaching it, which caused her to lament, “Daddy, I need to grow faster!”

I told her not to worry, that she was growing at this very moment, and she looked down at her feet to verify my claim.

Great Explode-ations

On Friday I took Reilly to Great Explorations, a local children’s museum. Reilly loves “GreatEx” so much that when I told her that we were going her smile nearly broke her jaw, and that thrilled expression remained fixed on her face for about 90 minutes, at which point I told her that it was time to return home.

Reilly turns three in a month, but it feels like she’s three already, and that was clearly apparent in her ability to defy me, to physically and mentally fight me when we tried to leave GreatEx, and to raise a scene so embarrassing and so powerful in its mirth that I was actually paralyzed and afraid.

Imaginary argument

Reilly's imagination has expanded exponentially of late, and she invites me to join her in those made-up worlds; to have imaginary tea--to pet an invisible kitty.

Yesterday we pretended to grocery shop together, and after purchasing our groceries we sat down at a table to eat.

I decided to have some grapes, but apparently they were not my grapes because Reilly raised up her voice that I should put them back, and I smiled about the deliciousness of it all, to be arguing over imaginary fruit.

Three Signs You Have a 2-year-old

You know you have a two-year-old when:

1) You find a moldy goldfish cracker in one of the inner pockets of your diaper bag.

2) At 9:30pm, you find yourself having an argument with your two-year-old about whether her pajama top matches her pajama bottom.

3) You take your laundry out of the dryer and find everything from stickers to mulch in the lint catcher.

From the mouths of babes...

This morning, Reilly slept in. On a Monday. God forbid she actually sleep in on a weekend.

When we finally roused her around 7:30am, she refused to get out of her crib, choosing instead to hold on to the railing and jump up and down. This, despite the fact that she knows the "No More Monkey's..." story by heart.

After 15 or so minutes of this behavior, I grew a bit weary and when Reilly was still for a moment, yanked off her PJ pants to get the morning moving forward. She was not made happy by this decision of mine, and after wallowing around her crib in the most pitiful of displays, she looked at me and said, "Daddy, you're disgusting!"

Not believing she even knew this three syllable word, I asked her what she said.

She replied, again, "Daddy, you're DISGUSTING!"

Unsupervised

This is what happens when you hand Reilly a Mr. Potato Head and then turn your back:

In her den

Our house has a few anomolies left over from its creation in the 1930s. One of them is a little firewood closet to the right of the fireplace, in the living room. I imagine that the firewood closet can hold about a cord of wood.

It also fits a two-and-a-half-year-old quite nicely.

One fish, two fish

One of the staples in Reilly's diet is Goldfish Crackers. To keep things interesting, we will rotate through the flavors, from parmesan to pretzel, and even mix in the multicolored ones from time to time.

Reilly's most recent flavor was the baby-size original cheddar Goldfish. For some reason, she just loves the baby ones.

The other day, we drove Reilly over to her Grandpa's house, and on the way, she finished off her stash of baby Goldfish. When we drove Reilly back from her Grandpa's house, we opened a new bag of the regular-size Goldfish and handed some back to her.

Reilly took one look at them and then exclaimed, "Mommy! The Goldfish growed up!"