Bug and I started calling her "Shenanigans" this weekend. It was my way of not (constantly) being so irritated that she doesn't listen to me. It's a reminder that she's a little bug doing little bug things, and that I should keep a sense of humor about it. It's hard to be annoyed and angry when hearing Bug say, "Shenanigans! Get out of the cabinet!" or "Shenanigans! Get off the diningroom table!"
Having seen Chevy Chase on a show last night gave me another idea: Chevy. Jem is a climber and a faller. Sometimes they seem to be pratfalls. She stands on a chair, the couch, my yoga blocks, the rocking moose, the ottoman, the coffee table, etc. She falls. Today she fell backwards off the couch. So what is she doing at this very moment? Standing on the couch next to me, back to the floor, bouncing. As if she didn't know what's bound to happen. A few minutes ago she was standing on her chair and diving onto the ottoman.
Jem's propensity to use words is coming along slowly but surely. She talks all the time in a language that I can't quite grasp. Sometimes, though, in context and listening Very Intently, her meaning is crystal clear.
It seems as though I've written this before.
Today Bug and Jem, still in their footie pajamas, were chasing each other in circles around the kitchen and dining room. Giggles intertwined with the sound of feet slapping across the vinyl. Then, a thud. As usual, it was Jem. She lost her footing while taking a turn and flopped down on her head. (No blood this time, thank you Jebus!) She stood up immediately and ran at me, meeting me as I rushed from the sink. When she got to me, she did a now usual ritual of turning her butt to me to sit on my lap. She cried as she nuzzled her head into my shoulder, letting me rock her and rub her back. I asked her what she hurt. She pointed at the floor. "You fell and hit the floor," I helped. "Did you hit your head?"
As she raised her hand to her hair, she replied, "My head." I had to bite my tongue not to cheer for the clarity of the communication, lest she think I was mocking her injury.
After some more rocking and rubbing, she was off again to resume the fun game with Bug. Every so often she would run back over to me, whining and holding her hands up to me. I'd kneel down, then have to sit to receive her butt so she could give me a sideways hug.
Jem didn't eat much yesterday. She picked at her lunch and did the same at dinner. Annoyed when she started banging her fork on the table (surely practicing her distressing skills for a later career in design), I cleaned her up and let her play. She decided to play at the little picnic table sitting right next to the kitchen table, three feet away from me.
Next thing you know I see her out of the corner of my eye, falling face first from the bench to the floor. She hit hard and cried out. When she rolled over, there was blood coming from a nice little, 1/2-inch gash on her right eyebrow.
Blood! Ack! She didn't care for me touching it at all, so putting pressure on it and then ice wasn't very pleasant.
This happened right around 5:00; my neighbor was expected at 6 to sit with the girls. She had just walked in the door when I called, but she was able to come over to hang out with Bug while I took Jem to the emergency room.
Luckily the ER was empty, so our stay there was short. They cleaned up Jem's head, detemined that it didn't need stitches, and glued her up.
The doctor said she will have a scar. It's on her eyebrow at least.
Jem walks past me in the playroom, waving and saying, "Bye Bye!!" She runs out the door, pulling it almost closed behind her. After a few beats in the hallway, she knocks on the door. "Hello? Who is it? Come in!" we say, and she comes in with a hearty "Hey!"
After dinner, Jujube did her usual disappearing act. She goes off to play by herself, and reappears in the kitchen smelling horribly. It was bathtime, so I grabbed her to clean her up and get her in the tub. Although I should have learned my lesson ages ago when she pooped in the hallway between her room and the bathroom. Whatev, call me daring. Her changing area is now in the room down the hall from the bathroom, and I carried her bare butt to the bathroom, putting her down and closing the door once there. She went over to the training potty, which is a usual occurence. She'll sit for half a beat, then slam the lid and then try to climb into the tub before getting completely undressed. Today, however, was different. She climbed into the toilet, standing in it doing her little dance for a minute. She then climbed out and sat down. I gave her the potty book, which she wouldn't let me read to her.
I busied myself getting the tub ready, letting her have her moment. When she stood up, I smelled more of that horrible smell. Could it be? Yes, it was! Foul as it was, my little bug pooped in the potty. woooo haaaa!