stinkerbean

My sweet, precious do-gooder of a child. My perfectly empathetic and sensitive child. The one other moms comment on by saying “how she is so well-behaved.”

The class mom of the two year-old class at her preschool organized a coffee klatch for us to get together after this morning’s school drop off. One of my close friends was there with her very active 1 year old-old, which prompted me to gush on and on about how Lolo has always just been “good”. My best example of this has always been that she has never attempted to climb out of her crib. She has asked before if she could either climb in or out of her crib. But, I told her that only mama or papa can get her in and out. And, that was it.

Since abandoning her nap a few weeks ago which really feels like years ago, I have instituted a one hour session of quiet time. She has to be in her crib and mostly quiet. She can read books, sing and play out her elaborate, lifetime channel for toddlers, mini-dramas. But, she has to be there while I eat my lunch in utterly, blissful silence.

Today, I put her in her crib with three books and went about eating and folding mounds of laundry. I was on the phone when I heard an enormous sound. It sounded like a metal dumpster fell from the sky outside our house. And, then she started wailing. I raced upstairs to find her in the middle of her room with tears streaming down her face. I asked what happened and she said, “I twied to climb outta my cwib.” I checked her over and didn’t see any visible wounds or bumps. I asked what she fell on and she appropriately said, “Da gwound.” Then I more specifically asked what part of her body she fell on and she pointed to her face. So I peered into her mouth to find two chipped teeth. It wasn’t horrible but they were now sharp enough to cut her tongue. I raced to the phone and the dentist said to come straight over. The good news is that it was all pretty minor. He grinded the edges and said it was the best possible scenerio and only time with tell if they darken. The teeth won’t be dead he said but they could discolor. Wha?

So, we went home to wind down from the crisis and I started to make broccoli and sausage pizza for her dinner. I kept verbally checking in with her while I was in the kitchen and she would call out a confirmation that all was okay. Once the pizza was done, I asked her to come to the dining room to eat and she didn’t answer. I walked to the playroom and she wasn’t there. I walked to the living room … nothing. I asked where she was and I heard a very guilty, “Over heah.” I found her wedged between the wall and the hutch with my very thick and juicy lip gloss opened and clutched in her hand. Her face was covered in glossy mauve as she both applied and ate the lip color. Her hands were drenched as well.

This doesn’t happen to me. I am never tested like this. She had to sit in time out and then lost her TV privilege for the evening. But she didn’t care because she just wanted to have one, singular bite of pizza and then play doll house with me. I was completely at a loss. Who told her that it’s fun to test the limits? Damn school.