Smart Cookie
Our friend Tex over at the Maru likes to tell tales of the amazing perceptive and manipulative powers of his daughter, now three. I always enjoy reading these anecdotes, in part because Tex tells a great story, but also very much because I so often see parallels in our little Tweetie.
Tweetie's first night in her big bed went quite well. She slept through and I was there to help her up when she awoke this morning. We'd spent a good part of the morning grazing, as we continue to encourage her to eat lots and get some variety. I'd taken her out for a little stroll up and down the block, and it was apparent that naptime was fast approaching. The fuss factor was climbing rapidly. I'd made her a smoothie and gave her a sandwich before our walk; she finished the last bites as we wandered. Having a pretty good sense that she might still (or again) be hungry, I refilled her smoothie when we got home and grabbed a cookie for upstairs before naptime. The smoothie was gone like lightning. And then I offered her the cookie, which she apparently took in exchange for another display of her subtle cunning.
She knew naptime was coming, eventually. Somehow she picked up that I wasn't going to put her into her bed until she was done with the crumbly cookie. The first half of the cookie disappeared almost immediately, just like the smoothie. Then she munched away as she made her rounds around her newly arranged room furnishings. Having about a quarter of the cookie left in a crescent shape, she popped the remnant in her mouth. "All done? Good job!" I readied myself to clean her up and settle her into bed.
At which point she pushed the cookie around in her mouth for proper alignment, opened said mouth, bit the cookie remnant in half, and took half back out into her fingers. Over the next 10 or 15 minutes (remember the first part - three times the size - went down in about two), she proceeded to nibble very slowly at that remnant, taking ever smaller bites - pretty much half of what was left each time - and taking at least one lap around the room between each bite. She was always careful to make it clear there was still some cookie left in her little hand.
Finally the last crumb went in the mouth, which grew a rather smug smile. "Alright. Into bed with you." I herded her over to the open end of the bed, and gave her a chance to try climbing in on her own. A bit of a boost and she was on the bed. Sitting right beside the opening, toes still poking out, and making no motions toward a cozy dozing position. Not willing to start this game over again, I picked her up and settled her into the middle of the bed to great protest. I helped pull the bunched blankets out of the way and tucked her in. The protests died out quickly as she nodded off. I was right. She was in dire need of a nap. But she did put up a very calculated, and successful, resistance.
Tweetie's first night in her big bed went quite well. She slept through and I was there to help her up when she awoke this morning. We'd spent a good part of the morning grazing, as we continue to encourage her to eat lots and get some variety. I'd taken her out for a little stroll up and down the block, and it was apparent that naptime was fast approaching. The fuss factor was climbing rapidly. I'd made her a smoothie and gave her a sandwich before our walk; she finished the last bites as we wandered. Having a pretty good sense that she might still (or again) be hungry, I refilled her smoothie when we got home and grabbed a cookie for upstairs before naptime. The smoothie was gone like lightning. And then I offered her the cookie, which she apparently took in exchange for another display of her subtle cunning.
She knew naptime was coming, eventually. Somehow she picked up that I wasn't going to put her into her bed until she was done with the crumbly cookie. The first half of the cookie disappeared almost immediately, just like the smoothie. Then she munched away as she made her rounds around her newly arranged room furnishings. Having about a quarter of the cookie left in a crescent shape, she popped the remnant in her mouth. "All done? Good job!" I readied myself to clean her up and settle her into bed.
At which point she pushed the cookie around in her mouth for proper alignment, opened said mouth, bit the cookie remnant in half, and took half back out into her fingers. Over the next 10 or 15 minutes (remember the first part - three times the size - went down in about two), she proceeded to nibble very slowly at that remnant, taking ever smaller bites - pretty much half of what was left each time - and taking at least one lap around the room between each bite. She was always careful to make it clear there was still some cookie left in her little hand.
Finally the last crumb went in the mouth, which grew a rather smug smile. "Alright. Into bed with you." I herded her over to the open end of the bed, and gave her a chance to try climbing in on her own. A bit of a boost and she was on the bed. Sitting right beside the opening, toes still poking out, and making no motions toward a cozy dozing position. Not willing to start this game over again, I picked her up and settled her into the middle of the bed to great protest. I helped pull the bunched blankets out of the way and tucked her in. The protests died out quickly as she nodded off. I was right. She was in dire need of a nap. But she did put up a very calculated, and successful, resistance.
posted by Coastal at
2:40 p.m.
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