The truth is, I videotaped the whole thing. I couldn’t help it. Abigail managed, once again, to dig for ‘taters in her size 4 diaper. Duct tape wasn’t gonna stop her. The girl can houdini her way out of footed pajamas in the name of a decent deuce. And I just couldn’t believe it. That shit had to be captured on film. BAD MOTHER. Very bad. Why don’t you just give her a bit more attention? I know. I know I’m supposed to scold her with a deep voice, but not to give her too much attention, even bad attention. I should be mild mannered about it, or better yet, let her stew in it. Just stand there with two handfuls of dung, as she tries to brush her hair out of HER EYES. Instead?
I took out the video camera.
"That’s just about the last thing you should do." It’s called enabling, really. I mean, I’m pretty much teaching her to do it by whipping out a video camera. What else says, "all eyes on me" better than eyes and a video camera? But you know, I couldn’t help myself. It was that disgusting. I needed proof for one day. I don’t know that I’d ever need to hold it over her as some threat, since I’m just not the type, but I guess, you never know.
Admittedly, I so want to post this video so others can see exactly what we’re dealing with here, but I’m also very aware that things on the internet live forever, and I do think about the privacy of my sprouts. I believe that stories like this one are actually beautiful. You know, in that same way, when Robin Williams, in Good Will Hunting, says that his deceased wife used to fart in her sleep, one time to the point where she woke herself up. It’s the good stuff. It’s what makes you laugh until you cry, no matter how gross. It’s the misery we’re able to laugh at over time, the really appalling stank of life actually is worth capturing on film.
In other news, I think it’s time for a big girl bed, so she can smear her shit all over the room. Yesterday, I heard a THWUMP from her room, and assumed it came from downstairs, but then she emerged, red faced, running to my room. When I called her name, she ran to me, with that cry where no sound comes out. It was nap time, and she’d escaped. She fell on her face, and now her nose is bruised. It’s definitely time for a big girl bed. Though Phil thinks we should wait. "She now knows that if she climbs out, she’s going to get hurt. So let’s keep her in the crib. She won’t do it again." Booh. I don’t like that logic. Especially since, I was the type… AM the type, who even if hurt once, think, well this time, maybe I’ll be a better climber. This time, maybe, I won’t get hurt, and I’d risk it. If she’s anything like me, she’ll think she can outsmart gravity, and she’ll keep trying, even in the face of fear.