Independence!

Sophia is turning two in July. That fact has been becoming more and more apparent this week as she has started asserted herself in so many facets of life. Some occasions have been really cute and funny, and others have been maddening, and some have been both at the same time.

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We started off the week on Tuesday, John's first day back at work. Monday is his day off, so that still counts as the weekend for the Libby family. After Sophia finished her breakfast she headed into the living room to play and I settled myself at the computer in the dining room to pay bills. Of course, paying bills is far more fun than toys, so as soon as I was sitting down Sophia wanted to come sit on my lap.

Fine.

She decided that my calculator made a great phone (never mind that she has an actual cell phone to play with . . . John's old one that we cancelled service on), and just had to play with it. That works great until Mama needs to do up the totals in the checkbook, and needs the calculator to actually use.

Usually I give Sophia fair warning that I am going to need something that she has decided is a toy, and she'll give it up without a fight. Not so on Tuesday!

I finally had to take the calculator, and put my now screaming child down to have her temper tantrum on the floor. (We're still at "I can count my kiddo's temper tantrums on one hand" but apparently not for much longer.) Calculating anything was lots of fun then, with little Sophia turned mutant crazy child tearing at my shirt/pants, attempting to climb back on my lap, all with the calculator as her goal.

I finished my work and put the calculator away in the den (not giving it back after all that) . . . meanwhile Sophia was getting over her sob fest. Or I thought she was getting over her sob fest when I picked her up to wipe the snot and tears off her face/hands/clothes.

But no, the crying restarted. And this time didn't stop until my little Snuggler had puked everywhere. Down my shirt (not just on it, no, DOWN the inside of it), all over her cute little dress, on her bedroom carpet (thought she was done . . . nope!), and then the tub and bath mat for good measure.

FYI, oatmeal as a facemask is much different from a whole bowl down your shirt. One is fun and relaxing, the other is most definitely not.

End scene.

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And now a cute one.

I was (again) in the dining room on Wednesday while Sophia played in the living room. She was being a very good girl, playing with her teddy bears in their little house. Or at least I thought she was.

Then I realized that I was hearing sounds of exertion coming from the next room. I assumed that it was the post-breakfast poop happening, smell soon to follow. Until I heard several different thumps, followed by joyous exclamations of "I got it!"

I peeked in to see what was going on, and realized that my 22 pound child had just pulled down a huge coffeetable type book. Off a shelf that is over her head, which she can barely reach! Not a small book, at least five or six pounds, and about 20 by 16 inches.

Usually Sophia would come asking for help with something like this, but obviously Mama's help is not so essential these days.

"I got it!"

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Obviously Sophia can reach things that I thought she could not. So I was not terribly surprised when I walked into the kitchen and found that she had reached up to the mug tree and grabbed one of the bottom mugs off of it.

I took the mug back, told her she was not allowed to get those down, and that seemed to be the end of the incident.

Until I walked back into the kitchen 20 minutes later and saw that she had taken another mug down . . . and was smirking at me! I know many of you may doubt that sweet little Sophia has it in her to smirk, but trust me on this one.

I said "Sophia, Mommy said no playing with the mugs. Please give it to me." as I headed toward her. My little docile child continued to smirk as she extended her hand toward me . . . and then deliberately threw the mug to the floor.

Can you say "Terrible Twos?!"

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We (and by that I mean "I") have been doing lots of extra laundry this week. I think Sophia is trying to get me ready for the newborn laundry that will be starting back up when #2 arrives.

Wednesday we were at a friend's house and Sophia had some trouble settling in for her nap, but yesterday we were home again and as soon as I put her down it was quiet.

I should have known.

I walked back up to get her three hours later and found . . . Naked Sophia!

I had purposely put her pajama pants on, as she was wearing a dress that day and I was concerned that she might pull her diaper off. So, on the floor: dress, pajama pants, and dry diaper. In the crib: naked Sophia, wet sheet, wet quilt, wet crocheted blanket . . . thankfully the four stuffed animals were saved.

Of course, this is coming after I found her in only a diaper Sunday night, crying because she was cold . . . because she had taken off her zippered footie pj's. We've tried a variety of solutions to keep clothes on in the crib since then, and I thought that tights or pj pants was going to work longer than a few days.

Ha!

I don't know what we will do when it warms back up again, but I'll tell you what worked last night . . . zippered footie pj's on BACKWARD.