Verbalizing

I see her giving me the "put me to bed, mom" cues: rubbing the eyes, big yawn, crawling towards the stairs. So, I pick her up. She snuggles into my shoulder and starts sucking on her middle two fingers. Stares at me with her big blue eyes. Blinks a couple of times.




Then ...

blah blah blah bububububu pfftttt ba da ba da badabada muhmuhmuhmuhmuhmuh ah ah ah ah ah ah ah blah blah blah bububububu pfftttt badabadabadabad muhmuhmuhmuhmuhmuh ah ah ah ah ah ah ah blah blah blah bububububu pfftttt ...

Sagan feels obligated to monologue to me for 2-20 minutes before she will finally give up and close her eyes.

"Hey, baby girl," I cut her off, "how about if I just lay you down and Glowworm listens to the rest of your speech? Okie dokie, here we go ..." and I plop her in her bed. "Night night, sweety."

She stares at me as I softly close the door.

Then ...

Unholy screams of dissatisfaction. Threats to report my lack of service to the management. I'll be hearing from her lawyer.

I give her a few minutes: maybe she'll cry it out. But no, she is tenacious, this little dear. I go back in. She has pooped. Of course she pooped. Of course. And diaper changes are so conducive to nap time.

Diaper change done, time to start the monologue over. From the tops.

Ok, baby girl. I'm listening.

bah bah mah ... zzzz ...



I was nothing, no one, before I was mommy.