My perfect angel of a daughter. The one who smiles at everything and everyone. The one who sleeps an appropriate amount of time without protest or procrastination. The one who loves nothing more than to just be held – especially by her mama. Oh my sweet baby girl.
Someone stole her.
In her place they have left someone that looks a lot like my Chloe. Except she screams when you pick her up (she demands complete freedom to work on her cruising). If somehow she has allowed you to hold her, she screams if you put her down. Especially in a play pen, high chair, walker or anything that limits her range of motion (and consequently might keep her safe). And she LAUGHS when you say things like “NO! Do not stick your finger in that electrical socket.” Laughs. I’m not kidding.
Today we were coming home from Chloe’s 10 month check-up on the subway. Somewhere around Union Square she decided that the 15 minute subway ride WAS FAR TOO LONG TO BE STRAPPED TO MOMMY and she just started screaming. Not temper tantrum screaming (clearly fake), not whining, not crying.
We are talking blood. curdling. screams.
Everyone in the subway car turned to see what was going on. As far as they could judge she was not dangling over the tracks and I didn’t appear to be sticking a sharp object in her eye. They looked away. AND SHE SCREAMED AGAIN. This time she added a convulsion like dance where she stood on my thighs, launched herself out of the baby carrier seat and threw her head back, arching, you know, to really let the scream fly.
Everyone was looking at me, expecting me to remedy the situation. I laughed and called her BossyPants, evoking my best loveable-doofus-Tina-Fey-esq face. This did nothing to end the screaming.
I took my cue from her arched back and tickled her exposed neck. She laughed hysterically and uncontrollably. My fellow subway riders went back to their business, probably feeling bad for me and Sybil-baby.
I hear what you are saying Chloe, terrible twos start now…