By Heather O.
Little Sister and I were outside this afternoon, playing with the hose.
Me, “You want to go in? Okay, let’s go inside.”
“Okay, let’s get these wet clothes off, and then some food. You hungry, you want some food?”
She stops wailing long enough for me to peel off her clothes, and then I put her in her high chair. I pull out a juice box and show it to her.
“Do you want some juice?”
She giggles maniacally, claps her hands, and holds them out, with an accompanying, “Unh, unh, unh!”
I open the straw, stick it in the juice box, and hand it to her. She sucks with glee, taking a break every now and then from her beverage to flash a toothy grin at me. I sigh and walk to the computer.
Seconds later I hear a small splashing sound, and turn to see her dumping out the entire contents of her juice box on the tray of her high chair, and then banging her hands in it as hard as she can, still giggling as bits of apple juice splash on her face, her chest, and dribble to the floor. Maggie the dog is busily lapping up these dew drops from heaven.
A few seconds later, and her laughter has turned to a siren-like wail, continuing on one note as she throws her head back to maximize the ear splitting sound coming from her small person. I run over to her, thinking Maggie has somehow hurt her. Why else would she sound so pathetic?
“Are you okay? What happened? Did Maggie bite you?” I check her legs for any telltale bites. The wailing stops and turns to giggles again as I stroke her legs. Finding no injuries, I tickle her feet for extra effect, kiss her on the nose, and walk away. The wailing begins, and I turn back. She giggles. I sigh. Again.
“Are you all done? Do you want to get down?”
“Uuunh! UUNH! UUUNHH!” she grunts, sounding like an angry sloth. (Do sloths get angry? If they do, they sound like that.)
I pull off the tray, dump the apple juice into the sink, unclip her, and pull her off the high chair and deposit her on the floor. She immediately clings to me, wailing again. I walk over to the pantry, dragging the child who is holding onto my legs, and get down the cookies. I hand her one. She smiles. I hand her another one. She smiles broader, immediately releases my legs, and stares at the cookies.
She is now wandering through the house, naked except for a diaper, double fisting vanilla flavored Jo-Jos.
I hope hubby comes home soon.