My youngest has always been amusing. Even before she was born she would lie really still in the womb, for days, just to see if I would run to the OB's office to check on her. Which of course I would. She was always fine. I was convinced I could feel her chuckling in there.
So I've decided to post a series of anecdotes devoted to the Little One. Warning: If you are driven to self-flagellation and gouging of the eyes when reading kid stories, these are not for you.
When she was able to crawl, the Little One would very quietly sneak (yes, I did say sneak) up behind me as I was busily washing dishes or stirring a pot on the stove and suddenly grab the back of my leg. Suds would splatter, stifled curse words would fly, and Mom would spin around to find a minuscule onesie-clad sprite directly behind her, giggling her diaper off. I never knew when she would strike.
When she learned to walk, she discovered a whole new world of adventure known in households the world over as "the fireplace." No matter how many different techniques were used to secure the entrance to this mecca of soot and delight, she would find a way in. Life for Mom became a daily routine of barring the gates of fire and restoring the now black child to her former pink self.
About a day after she learned to walk, the Little One began to run. Running is one of her favorite activities. But running in this house is synonymous with injury. The living room in our house is sunken. One must negotiate a step when traversing from the living room to the dining room, a task easily accomplished when moving at speeds under 50mph. Several times a day for six years the Little One wiped out running between these two rooms. And she always, ALWAYS, looked utterly shocked when she ended up face down on the floor. And... Mom always had a good belly laugh over it. There's something quite satisfying in that I-told-you-so moment of seeing your child suffer the exact consequence of which you warned only seconds before the incident. I'm just sayin'.