Sometimes my child grosses me out

Monday is probably a good day to blog Elizabeth stories.  We had a great weekend together and she did not enjoy the Super Bowl except for the times that her daddy turned to the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet.  That's when she would say "puppy" and pant.  I'm not sure where she picked up the panting part, but it's cute now.   If it continues to her teen years, I'll worry. She also fully mastered climbing up onto the couch by herself. She will start her knees up on the edge and grab the cushions and pull with all her might.  Once she's up there, my little dare devil likes to jump, which scares the bee-jeezers out of me.  Scott also believes we have a narcissist on our hands because she also likes to look at herself in the mirror above the couch.  Ah, what he has in store with raising girls!

Poopoo grabber

The whole introduction to potty training has me stumped just like introducing foods.  I keep reading suggestions and asking people who have little ones how they started the process.  It makes sense to me that the first stage is that she has to know when she's going potty.  So we introduced "poo poo" into the vocabulary.  This would be difficult if it wasn't glaringly obvious when my child was going to the bathroom, with her squat stance, red face and teary eyes... so every time the show started, I would consistently ask her if she was going poo poo.  At first, she assured me "nooooooooo" (followed by a strenuous head shake) and I'd have to grab her and the whole time I'm changing her, let her know that, "you poo poo'd."  

 

My child last summer with her Aunt Allison, in nothing but her "ba-boo"

The next step was that she started saying, "diaper" (Ba-boo) and would run back to her room., looking over her shoulder for me to follow her.  I was so proud of her!  I'd make over her and call her a good girl, still reiterating the poo poo.  So then came the day that I was watching my child dance to the Wiggles and, all of a sudden, she sticks a hand down the back of her diaper.

"What are you doing, Elizabeth?"

"Uh-oh, mama..., " she answers.

"Get your hands out of your diaper," I say.

"Boo-boo...," remarks my beautiful child, who has now preceeded to pull a handful of poo poo out of her diaper.  I jump up as fast as a 9 month pregnant woman can and run over and grab her, running to the changing table to try to keep her from touching anything.  Oh, it was awful!  I was so grossed out.  Of course, both of our mothers have died laughing upon hearing this story. After a good week of wearing onesies and overall's again (creating a barrier to reach into the diaper), she would tell me uh-oh without having to reach in and see for herself what she had done.  And I guess the next stage is that her daddy and I actually have to go buy a potty.  But I swear, I will never forget that initial poo poo grab...yuck!!

More of my daughter's cleaning obsession

I got more comments about Elizabeth's cleaning of our bathroom, so I thought I would share more of her adventures.  She is obsessed about things going back where they go.  Don't let me put a toy away in the wrong place - she'll take it and put it in the spot where it goes.  When I get the vaccuum cleaner out, she will run up and work her feet along the pedals, like she sees me doing, and I normally let her hold onto the handle while I'm cleaning.  I'm on the lookout for a little vaccuum cleaner of her own.  I saw one at Walmart that played music, but it looked so annoying that I thought I would regret the purchase!  Elizabeth also loves the dishwasher and can lift the door up and down and will even attempt to climb on top of the door when it's open.  I know...awesome, right?  If you're not careful, she'll grab the silverware basket out and run around the house with it, getting water everywhere.  

 

Here's a shot of her helping with the cleaning

But her latest hangup is with socks.  We keep her socks matched up in a little basket in her closet and they're in her reach...but I figured, they're socks so what does it really matter?  Most nights, she'll run out of her room with that basket, plop down on the floor, and begin separating the socks in little piles.  My dad got the biggest kick out of this while he was here and would even egg her on by matching them back up.  (I know...not MY dad!)  What's cued this, I have no clue and it really is harmless until I'm ready to get her dressed in the morning and can't find matching socks!