Saturday, July 7, 2012
Friday Letter for my daughter (on Saturday)
Thursday evening, teething began. There was no sleep. There was screaming on the hour every hour until about 5 a.m. Needless to say, Mommy was toast. You were miserable, and unhappy, and nothing made it better.
Friday morning, you woke up ready to play. I'm not sure how, or why, but you felt rested enough to play with Daddy while Mommy tried to sleep.
Daddy, trying to clean the kitchen and do something nice for Mommy, put you in the hover-tank walker thing, so you could go zooming around the house. Somehow during this process you stole a fork out of the dishwasher, and came running down the hall to the bedroom to show Mommy that Daddy had failed as a guardian.
The danger of you stabbing yourself in the eye with said fork was enough to resurrect Mommy, who promptly took your fork away, LEAVING YOU IN THE BEDROOM, while she went stomping back to the kitchen to go explain to Daddy that forks were not approved baby toys.
While Mommy was castigating Daddy, you came giggling back into the kitchen, waving a second fork.
I would really, REALLY like to know where you got the second fork.