I have said all along, I would have ten more babies if I could guarantee they were as well behaved as our youngest. To which my husband has always responded “Are you F**king crazy?” There may also have been mention of a one-way ticket to Mexico.
It’s true though. She is very independent. She loves to play on her own, and makes no qualms about letting people know when she doesn’t want to be picked up or fussed over. Eleanor has received many straight arms to the face when trying to hug her at unwanted intervals.
She gravitates toward people who don’t make a big deal of her or are sitting quietly not paying attention to her at all, and she will tell you if she wants you to pay attention to something in particular.
She has always slept well and gone to bed (and down for naps) very well. We simply give her a kiss, put her in her bed and walk away. She either goes straight to sleep or entertains herself until she gets tired.
She is a dream baby…or was. She turned two in April, and while I never really believed there was a big difference between two and any other age, I was sadly mistaken. Have I blocked this stage from previous babies?
Now she whines, and she’s clingy, and she has temper tantrums. Tom likes to wait till she is in the throws of one of these tantrums and sweetly ask “So, still want another baby?” I, of course, say yes out of spite. The worst part is, she doesn’t want to go to sleep anymore, she cries at bedtime. I still walk away though, and she is out within a few minutes.
My baby used to be an angel, and now? Well, now she’s more like…well, like this: