Baby Who has entered a new phase. At least, I keep telling myself it's just a phase. Surely it can't last. SURELY. (Yeah, yeah, who am I calling Shirley?)
It started innocently enough a few months ago with the single utterance of the word "No." Not just "No," but "Nooooooo," drawn out like a whoopee cushion losing its air.
That single act of defiance has escalated this past month into what I fear is full-fledged independence. Get this: She does not like the clothes I pick out for her.
Mind you, this child is Not Yet 2.
I am doomed.
So our morning pleasantries have given way to battles as she shakes her head in rejection as I pull out one outfit after another. Today she agreed to wear the short overalls I chose but didn't want a T-shirt. I tried it without the shirt and she looked X-rated. Sorry, kid, but you've gotta cover those baby boobies.
She was not pleased.
Maybe this is her early rebellion at the realization that, as the youngest, she's going to inherit a LOT of hand-me-downs. Maybe she's just mad as hell.
Or maybe she's going to be a fashion diva.
You be the judge.
