One of the blogs I sometimes read is the ever-popular Dooce. Sometimes it's interesting, sometimes boring, like all blogs. Well, this little post reminded me of when Maya was a baby, and would torture me by trying to get me to get her in and out of her crib over and over and over again. Don't tell me that babies don't have that kind of motivation. It was torture. So here's the scene...she's upstairs, and I'm downstairs. She's in her crib, in a loft, so her voice carries VERY well to the downstairs. She replays the things that I say to her, to get me to come up there. "What's wrong, Sweetie? You want some yogurt?" I would go up to her, and she wasn't wet. I'd bring her downstairs and see if she was hungry, but no. She was rubbing her eyes, and we were trying to keep her on a schedule, so back up to the crib. "What's wrong, Sweetie? You want some yogurt?" Back up. No, nothing wrong. It's amazing how many times a first born child can get you to go back up and down those stairs. The fact that I didn't have rock hard thighs and butt after that is testament to the power of Cheetos. "What's wrong, Sweetie? You want some yogurt?" And I go up to see, and she looks at me coyly and says, "What?" Back downstairs I go, determined that she will NOT drive me insane. Eventually, she's screaming, "WHAT'S WRONG SWEETIE!!!! YOU WANT SOME YOGURT!!!" and we're downstairs, not sure whether to laugh or not, frustrated, tired, and not falling for it anymore. Too bad I was born in this modern culture and wanted some autonomy, wanted my own bed and time alone with my husband, because I think she would have been happier in a sling attached to my body 24/7. Really.
On another note, Maya discovered yesterday that eggplant curry and cheese sandwiches are nasty. I'm not sure if she would have found them nasty if I hadn't laughed so hard when she told me what she had made. I'm sorry. I truly could not help myself. I used to make spaghetti sauce sandwiches as a child, so I understood her urge.