You Can't Put Baby in the Corner Anymore--Or At Least You Can't Make Her Stay

I remember the blessed days when she nursed, slept, nursed, slept, and then watched contentedly from that rock-ee thing in the corner. Now she goes everywhere tummy-first, propelled by her elbows and her sass.



Today, she twisted my nose harder than my mean uncle ever did. I didn't think I was going to break loose.




She's an independent, this girl, that's for sure. Today she spent 45 minutes methodically trying to stuff her big, orange, smelly kitty into the shape sorter. When she finally got frustrated, she came over and bit me with that snaggle-tooth. So I put her in the corner, just because I can tell I'm going to need the practice. She ran after me all-not to be sexist-girly and crying real tears just because I bellowed, "YEOWWWWWWWWWWWW! NOOOOOO BITING!!!!" Then she grinned and bit me again.

We know when she's done eating because she gives us the baby sign-the one that looks just like dumping a half-full bowl of pasta/soup/goopy/sticky whatever over her head-and states, "Igetdooowwnnowah."

"Do you want to get down, Thing Two?"

"Noooooo. Igetdownowah."

"Do you want to get down?"

"Noooo. Igetdownowah."

Jesus, that's hilarious--I could do that for hours.