Margaret-ella (Hopefully With Fewer Talking Mice)

I always had, in the back of my mind, a sense that children might be good for something.  I mean, I distinctly remember doing dishes and vacuuming and laundry and cooking at tender ages, so it seemed like a plan: have children, and then set them to clean the house.

Unfortunately, this plan has been mostly backfiring, as Margaret makes more messes than she tidies up.  She has developed a certain mania for putting things into other things, but it’s been hard to channel these urges into anything constructive.  I’m far more likely to end up with a pacifier and a block in my teaching bag than we are to have toys in the appropriate bins.

On the bright side, she seems to have taken up sweeping.

She absolutely adores playing with this half-broom that I use to sweep the snow off the car in the winter.  See how proud she is of herself?

Leo’s mom has also been helping with her training.  The other morning, when I went to pick Margaret up after class, I found that she was doing the dishes.

She’s very serious about it, and does not necessarily appreciate interruptions.

I don’t, however, think that she’s going to be up to ironing until she’s at least 2.

Somebody Has To Supervise

There was work being done in our backyard today, and Margaret trooped outside to make certain that everything was done to her specifications, which are very precise.  She’s somewhat hampered by her lack of language, but she can usually get across what she’s thinking.

“Try the hoe.”

“See, isn’t that easier?”

“Maybe a little more gravel would help.”

“I think you should scoop a little more out here.”

Gravity Is A Harsh Mistress

Margaret’s habit of walking like a drunken sailor, but often a drunken sailor in a terrible hurry, has been known to lead to some tumbles, and though we try to limit them, in general we try to help her learn from her mistakes in a constructive way.  To whit, when she falls, we comfort her while pointing out that it was her own fault because she was trying to run as fast as she could over uneven ground.  We are sure that this is very educational for her.

Today, she was wandering around outside, doing her usual circuits.

But at one point, she tried to run faster than the sidewalk, and it didn’t work out too well.

Actually, she tried to go off of a step that we were very careful of for a long time, but she was cautious, and so we trusted that she had learned some sense and wasn’t going to try.  More fool us.

Anyway, she has a nasty goose egg, and skinned forehead, and a slightly banged-up lip. 

This is not, however, stopping her from piling blueberries on top of her cup of milk.  Because blueberries aren’t going to pile themselves, are they?*

*Should anyone witness blueberries piling themselves, I would urge them to report said phenomenon to the relevant authorities, though come to think about it, I’m not sure who those authorities would be.  The Department of Agriculture, maybe?

Margaret At The Gate

We have a fenced backyard.

It is a beautiful thing, and I am very happy about it.  Margaret likes it as well, but when we shut the gate at the end of the driveway, she likes to see if she can break out and run into the street.

Also, on the driveway leading down to the garage, there is a drop of about an inch between two squares of concrete.  In this next video, Margaret is VERY CAREFUL about both getting down and up.  But of course, the drop doesn’t show on the video, so she looks kind of silly.  Rest assured that she’s just being careful about falling.

Right This Very Instant

Again, crummy picture because of the light in the room, but a Very Important Milestone occurred here this morning, and I couldn’t be a prouder parent.

Margaret Fell Asleep Reading.

(I think I may cry, I’m so happy).

My reconstruction of the event is that she was sitting up reading with the book on her lap, and then she fell over and fell asleep.

Wall Street: Money Needs A Nap*

So after Margaret’s last bath, I combed her hair into a very Gordon Gekko do.

From another angle:

And I made the joke about needing a nap, and Margaret (whose comprehension of words seems to be growing, in that she can both follow and willfully ignore directions, depending on her whim) took matters into her own hands.

Little did she know that those are caffeine-free, bought accidentally and now languishing in the back room, because no one sees any point in drinking them.

So we foiled her little schemes.  For now.

*For those of you (Mom, I’m looking at you) who need this explained, there’s a movie that makes this really funny.

After The Rain

What would you do after it had rained and rained and rained and rained and the ground was wet, even if the sun was shining now?

If you answered “Go outside and sit on the ground and pick up soggy gumballs and try to eat them,” you’re probably Margaret, and why aren’t you taking your nap instead of reading the blog?  Also, when did you learn to talk properly?*

Also, clutching gumballs to her chest and muddying her front was another pastime she favored.

I think the small person has stock in Tide.  What she doesn’t know, since she doesn’t come into the basement with me when I’m doing laundry, is that her efforts are in vain, because I wash her clothes in Dreft.

*Incidentally, for those of you still unaware, Margaret has a consistent “word.”  In the morning, when her brain is running at its peak, and she’s not interested in other things, she will say “tickle,” and make tickling motions on her tummy and armpits.  It is adorable.  Though I think that tickle is a ridiculous first word, and she should have paid better attention