These Teens

My daughter is now 14. Months. The past month has been a very helpful one, both in my relationship with her and in my understanding of her in a more global sense. Intimately, I feel as though we have our own cues, our own little games and that only I, the maven of all games that include expired credit cards and crevices of couches, get.

On a more macro level, I feel that I am starting to grasp what it is I am supposed to be doing in her character development. I see what areas need attention, improvement.

For example, Big Girl was really FAILING with a capital EFF at the notion of "gentle hands." I care for another little boy with outrageously gorgeous curly hair one day a week. This little boy has suffered week after week from the clutches of Baby Girl. She has been absolutely incorrigible to master gentle hands. She would see those luscious locks and instantaneously become one of those arcade games with the revolving claw that grabs busted looking stuffed bunnies that you finally scored after inputting $7 worth of tokens. She could not unlearn grabby hands.

Until yesterday when she was just almost completely reproved of it. She stroked those angel tresses with the gentleness of a caterpillar sneezing. I was so proud of her, and we all had a much happier day. It sounds strange that a 14 month-old would finally be disabused of a habit that causes harm to one of her peers, but I am just so proud to say Mama ain't raising no dummy.

***

The 14 month-old flex

You can almost hear it, can't you? What are you doing in there, Baby Girl?

...NOTHING....

Hot to Trot

Saturday was an example of how I should not be allowed out of the house by myself any longer. I drove to a Red Line station. I glanced to ensure no pocket change was visible in any cup holders. Off to a decent start.

Forgot Charlie Card pass for train riding (strike one), but had proper change for purchase of to and fro ticket.

Arrived at Yelp Event at Mizu Salon. Dramatically underdressed compared to chic minions (strike two).

Glanced at chic early twirtysomethings. Received defensive glances back as if they thought I was examining their outfits all So this is what the young people are wearing out disco dancing these days! Which is, actually, exactly what I was thinking, but not snobbishly, rather earnestly, because, as we have established, I think REI fleece vest paired with every.single.outfit is haute couture. (strikes three through eleventy seven).

I then tried to initiate convo-chatter with the only two people I recognized and evidently that should be a new challenge in Cranium because both exchanges resulted in my finding a cupcake and finding a corner and finding myself the girl alone in the corner with the cupcake and icing all over her face. (strike infinity).

The only bright light was finding my friend Melissa and talking hysterically about the cuteness of Baby Girl which made me feel like I needed to leave immediately.

So in my huff to leave, I spilled ice all over the lobby of the salon. I then, feeling bad for self, bought a sale shirt at ATay and a book at B&N and lo! Where the nelly be-eth my car keys?

(Strikey McStrikerforker.)

I retraced every step, made mates with every security personnel at mall place. Found keys where left them in salon.

Back on train. Busy people watching. Miss stop at worse possible turnaround point. (STEEE-RIKE).

Find car, no pocket change stolen. Pick up last minute grocery items. Receive txt from Loverpants GETTING WORRIED, arrive home in one piece.

What, you are begging to know, were my favorite people doing while mama bird flew the coop?

Just chillin'...

Also noteworthy is the cranking of neck the wee one does every time I unleash the camera. It's new, it's cute, it's inexplicable.

Madiganecdote

Saturday, during potluck after church, Baby Girl sidled over to a boy who is easily a head taller than she, and certainly a year older. Compelled by an inner voice that shouted giddily, "It's Girl Scout cookie time!", she reached for the Thin Mint in the boy's hand and wrestled it right out of his clutches. Then she looked up at him as if to say, Seriously? You didn't even fight me for it, chump.

The boy's face immediately scrunched up, the mouth opened wide to bear his full set of 2 year-old teeth, the arms shot straight down along his hips like straws shaking in anger. A little cry crescendoed so that soon everyone in the room looked over to see the little boy falling apart and Baby Girl still standing with the Thin Mint, wondering if it was time yet to take a bite or was she going to have to inevitably give it back.

The boy's mother rushed over, reminding him there was no need to be bullied by a pipsqueak over a cookie.

Baby Girl stood still as though waiting for further instruction.

And I sat at a potluck table, powerless to rebuke or intercede as the tears streamed out of my eyes in a bellyaching fit of laughter.  I had become that parent.

***

To think she was still resisting tummy time one year ago.