Suzannah has been purely delightful this week. This, I've learned, is life with a toddler. Last week, I'm pretty sure I wondered aloud at least once a day whether it would really be such a bad idea to box her up and ship her off to my parents, who usually respond to my complaints about whining and attitude and tantrums with "Well, she just needs Grandpa and Grandma." Or, more helpfully, "No, she's not [crabby, unreasonable, stinky]. Have you tried [giving her a more appetizing dinner, reading her a story, being more competent in general]?"
Okay, just kidding. My parents are actually very awesome, but they laugh at me a lot and, I suspect, exchange plenty of knowing glances.
Anyway, this week, Suzannah has been just wonderful. She's in a good mood in the afternoons; we play a lot, and we sing a lot, and we read a lot. (A lot.) She gives her daddy huge hugs in the morning before he leaves for work and waves cheerfully.
"Buh-bye!" She calls. She says buh-bye to everything these days. Buh-bye, bathwater. Buh-bye, house. Buh-bye, doggie. Oh, wait, except she really means that. No, seriously, the dog is looking at her, she is standing right there by her table and watching her eat breakfast and why am I not doing anything about it? Buh-bye! Buh-Bye! Away! AWAY!
It's actually a little heartbreaking when she uses buh-bye that way. She uses it on either Matt or me at least once a night, and she tends to alternate. On Monday night, for instance, I wasn't allowed to go near her after her pajamas were on. She wanted Daddy to do her nighttime diaper, she wanted Daddy to help her brush her teeth, she wanted Daddy to bring her a drink of water. When I went into her room to check on her, she howled, "No! Daddy! Buh-bye! BUH-BYE!" She waved at me. "BUH-BYE!"
Last night, it was the other way around. I have to tell you, I think I handle this better than Matt does. (Hah. This is the true test of whether Husband reads my blog, isn't it?) His feelings get hurt and he usually tells Suzannah that she's going to Make Daddy Cry, which, as you would imagine, does not particularly interest her. I'll grant you that it can be a little sad when my tiny, distraught daughter sobs BUH-BYE and waves at me through her tears, but I get over it. Especially since the last time she did that, it was about four o'clock in the morning.
"She wants you," I mumbled to Matt. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.
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