This weekend it was super cold (which is extra weird since it hit 83 degrees earlier in the week) and drizzly. Not fun. So I just sort of let her run amok. I mean, every toy, every book, every thing that wasn't a toy but wouldn't maim her, got pulled out and utilized. We danced. We sang (new favorite song? "Twinkle Twikle" which she calls "up-uh" because of the phrase "up above the world so high." I must've sung that mofo 100 times this weekend).
The following photos were taken during one of her numerous "night night fake out" sessions. She's OBSESSED with her pacifier, which she calls her "dah-dah" for some unknown reason. But she only gets her dah-dah when she goes to bed, when she's in her car seat, and in moments of dire emergency (meltdown at Luby's? Dah-dah to the rescue.) Anyway, the "bedtime only" restriction also applies to her little elephant (AYN-ah-hoont) and hippo (AH-poh) that I've written about before. She's a complete hippo-elephant-dah dah junkie. So all weekend, she walks over to her crib, pulls down the bumper to see if all her stash is in there, and then she looks at me with those eyes and asks, "nigh, nigh?" To which I reply, "Night, night?! Are you sure?" She always nods enthusiastically.
I put her in the crib, and she immediately sticks the dah-dah in her mouth and grabs the hippo and elephant, one in each hand. Then she looks at me, because she knows she's screwed.
Exhibit A: You can't really see 'em, but trust me: she's got the death grip on the hippo and elephant in those little fists of hers. And yes, that's a freakin' bow in her hair. Don't judge...
This whole night-night fake out thing is so epic and dramatic. It's like something out of Ibsen or Chekov. She is so torn, because she doesn't want to really be in her crib, but she sure as hell doesn't want to leave her true loves:
So yeah. That's the kind of crap you do when it's rainy and cold outside all weekend. That, and go to the grocery store. Just for the hell of it. Twice.