Miss Avery began her first stage of potty training last night, with much success. Quite a feat for an 18 month old baby, wouldn't you say? She's trying so hard to talk in complete sentences, yesterday she pointed to the barette in her hair and said rapturously "Oh, so pretty!" She's beginning the terrible twos, and having tantrums whenever it suits her. For my part, I'm convinced that it's just the frustration of knowing what she wants to say and tell/ask us, but we're not understanding her. In her mind she's speaking plain English. The problem from her mouth to our ears is that it's coming out in this wierd Aramaic/Latin/Hungarian/Averyese language similar to records played backwards. Then if you don't jump and get her whatever she's wanting, she first gives that exasperated look like "Oh sweet Jesus... ::sighs, slaps forehead with eyes tightly cinched shut:: Here we go AGAIN..." and then launching into her screaming and chastizing while pointing her index finger directly at you and casting the Eye Of Shame™. It's actually quite funny, but so much as a smirk at her when she's pissed can and will result in bodily harm. You'll fuck around with this one when she's mad and end up being cast into a statue of Lot's wife. It loses it's adorable quality and becomes downright annoying when she goes a bit too far and I have to schlepp her back to her room and leave her there to cool out. Ah, the joys of raising a child.
For as annoying as her tantrums are, it's paid for tenfold when she comes up to me for no reason, takes my face in her plump little hands, and gives me a big smooch on the lips while saying Mmmmmmuah!". She no longer calls me "D" anymore, she's reserved that for Damien exclusively. Now she's taken to calling me "Gah". Yeah. I don't know either. Just don't make eye contact.