I think Veeka is starting to hit her stride now that she has turned two and officially be naughty. The photo of her in the driver’s seat portrays the position she THINKS she holds in our household. She was fine this past weekend during Mommy’s birthday festivities when she posed princess-like with all sorts of out-of-town visitors (the white-haired lady is named Bettie in the second photo)and even stayed up til 9 pm without much of a fuss.
But that was then. Someone (the daycare folks swear it was not them) taught her how to spit. So she goes around *spitting* – the little terror – at me, the kitties, whatever. Today was an example of a Nasty Day. First, she woke us all up at 1 a.m. screeching. She wanted to play. I made my way downstairs to the fridge, grabbed a sippy cup of cold milk, then tossed it into the crib. That shut her up.
I crawled out of bed later that morning and had just changed her ONLY to experience a diaper explosion. So we change her again. Then she wanted my cereal more than her oatmeal. Once she tires of a dish, she simply drops it on the floor, which creates a big mess, especially when the dish is full of food. Mommy has yelled at her countless times about this but Veeka is not in the listening mode. So Mommy removes all her food from her. Veeka sulks, then screams. Then kicks off her highchair tray which also goes crashing to the floor.
We decide it is high time to get this child to daycare. Every effort to dress her meets with shrieks and wails. We finally drag her into the car and whizz her off for a few hours while Mommy works to bring food on the table.
But 6 pm comes all too soon and when the Little One comes out to greet her mother, she spits again. Hmmmm. Going home, more sulking until a bag of fruity cheerios is tossed her way. We of course are very tired after having braved another 70 minutes of lovely rush hour traffic. At home, Miss Veeka is handed some pasta with yummy sauce and kidney beans and corn. Usually she snarfs down the kidney beans. This time, no way. We bring out some bread to get her to eat that. She shreads the entire piece and it too lands on the floor. (Note – her most destructive acts are done while I am in the kitchen). I hand her a sippy cup. Crash, that goes on the floor. I run out to the kitchen to pour her some applesauce. Unfortunately, I have left the milk bottle cap off the bottle on the dining room table. I re-enter the dining room to see the little darling pouring milk out of the bottle all over the dining room table.
By this time Mommy has had enough. She drags her screaming child upstairs and throws her into the bathtub. Miss Veeka hollers the whole time, then splashes water on Mommy who has forgotten to remove her work clothes. Fortunately, Mommy was not wearing one of her suits. Then as Mommy lifts her out of the tub, she wrenches her knee.
Mommy is now typing this at 11 pm. knowing that in a few hours, her little tzarina will be up at some ungodly hour.
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