Oh boy, oh boy
Abigail.
As you can see, she's found her way to makeup already. And my, what a lovely little face she puts on.
Chrissy dropped her off the other day to stay for a few hours. She arrived in her pajamas because she apparently had a minor meltdown before leaving the house and wouldn't get dressed. So while we watched Mary Poppins, she regaled us with her makeup prowess. She asked for a mirror so I gave her my compact. Looking back, probably not so smart. She was claiming it as her own. What can I say?
She paused between pats of compact powder, looked at me with her head cocked to the side and said, "I want to get dressed." I reminded her that her clothes were at her house. "I'll check," she said. "Check where, sweetie? You didn't bring any," I told her. "I'll check," she said again. "Where?" I ask. "In your room," she told me. Well, OK. But there's nothing up there.
Now she's either super smart, which I'm betting on. Or she perhaps really thought there were clothes for her up there. So we climbed the stairs. And she proceeded to run the length of the house, from the bedroom to the loft. ("Abby, are you ready to go downstairs?" "NO! I want to RUN.") Back and forth. Back and forth. The clothes were not mentioned again.
Genius or normal 2-year-old?
As you can see, she's found her way to makeup already. And my, what a lovely little face she puts on.
Chrissy dropped her off the other day to stay for a few hours. She arrived in her pajamas because she apparently had a minor meltdown before leaving the house and wouldn't get dressed. So while we watched Mary Poppins, she regaled us with her makeup prowess. She asked for a mirror so I gave her my compact. Looking back, probably not so smart. She was claiming it as her own. What can I say?
She paused between pats of compact powder, looked at me with her head cocked to the side and said, "I want to get dressed." I reminded her that her clothes were at her house. "I'll check," she said. "Check where, sweetie? You didn't bring any," I told her. "I'll check," she said again. "Where?" I ask. "In your room," she told me. Well, OK. But there's nothing up there.
Now she's either super smart, which I'm betting on. Or she perhaps really thought there were clothes for her up there. So we climbed the stairs. And she proceeded to run the length of the house, from the bedroom to the loft. ("Abby, are you ready to go downstairs?" "NO! I want to RUN.") Back and forth. Back and forth. The clothes were not mentioned again.
Genius or normal 2-year-old?
posted by Jasclo at 1/28/2005 01:09:00 PM
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