Sigh. Gone are the days of my sweet little ball of baby Smush, sitting happily on the floor, cooing here and there, letting me know she’s still there, still happy, still content. Almost every day was like this with my sweet little Smush.
Then she started walking.
You have to know Smush to understand the sheer devastation that has struck not only my sanity, but also my house. Before, I had one ball of uncontrollable energy. Also known as, Goo. It took us changing her diet, implementing new rules, and a whole lot of
coffee patience, but I was starting to get things under control. Sort of.
And then something happened. My sweet little Smush – whom I generally refer to as the easiest baby ever – morphed. She is still sweet. She is still Smushy. She is NOT the easiest baby ever.
We were all concerned about her not walking. Actually, I was all concerned about her not walking. I talked to the pediatrician about it. She said not to worry. The good news is, she was right. The bad news is, she was wrong. So very, very wrong. I had much to worry about. Not in the walking department. But in the sheer terror I-will-destroy-everything-you-own-before-you-have-a -chance-to-use-that-baby-sign-language-crap-for-“No.” Oh yes. The other day I found her here:
And I know for a fact that she climbed up there by herself. We have already had full boxes of cereal knocked off the table, toilet paper rolls unwound, toys dumped, entire dressers emptied in the blink of an eye. And she’s just one baby. I still have Goo and Punkin. Do you have any idea of the sheer destruction my house is facing?
The Nerd and I were sitting in the living room when we heard a tiny little *cough cough* coming from the front closet. We opened it up to find her sitting in the shoe bucket. What the what? How does she even do that? I’m assuming a sister had a hand in that one.
Don’t get me wrong, Smush still gives the sweetest love a baby could ever give. I still could just squeeze her all day long. But I feel that now, she is officially out of the baby stage, and full-on into the toddler-of-destruction phase. Sigh. There is only one thing to do. Time for another baby.
Wait, did you think I was serious? You don’t know me at all.