Evidence that - for now - I am still the superior-thinking party

Me and my girl.

Went to Crisler Center today to watch the Selection Sunday show. Took both kids. Boy, that was a fun adventure.

Will save the unnecessary details. When we left, Abby decided she was going to be difficult.

We walked down the 4,000 stairs from the main concourse to street level. I was carrying Jack and half of my possessions and Abby was trailing behind, enjoying a leisurely, scenic stroll.

I got to the bottom (with Jack - should I mention he was squirmy? He was squirmy - and half my possessions).

That's when Abby gave me a look like she was going to mess with me and doubled back to have a little fun on the stairs.

She knew exactly what she was doing. She was bored and was going to entertain herself at the expense of Mommy. "Let's see what I can make Mommy do in public."

She walked up the stairs. I yelled for her to come down. She walked down a few ... then turned around again. At one point, Tom walked down the stairs with half his team. Awesome. Nothing to see here, guys!

Finally, I had it. I wasn't going to look like an idiot whisper-yelling (you know what I'm talking about) for my child to pretty please come downstairs so we could leave. So I told her, "Bye! We're leaving!" and walked to the door. Parents of older-than-two-year-olds, please don't tell me when this tactic stops working. I would like to relish in today's small victory.

Ultimately she came running behind me. She had her track suit on, but no winter coat. It wasn't bitter cold, but it was pretty cold.

Well, since she wouldn't come voluntarily and I had Jack in my arms - should I mention he was fussy? He was fussy - and half my possessions, I really wasn't able to put it on without running the risk of her scurrying out of my arms and back up the stairs. So I figured I'd pull a 1950s lesson and let her take the (short - please don't call CPS) walk to the car without it on.

She was not happy, but we got to the car and she quickly warmed up.

We had driven about halfway home when I turned around to look at her at a red light.

I asked her, "Do you know why Mommy was upset?"

She cheerfully responded, "Because I was running up the stairs!"

This probably shouldn't have floored me, but it did. She so readily responded. She didn't have an answer like, "Toodles!" or something else that didn't make sense from a two-year-old. She knew exactly why I was upset, confirming that look she had given me before was, in fact, because she was purposely messing with me.

We had a quick lesson in what she would do next time and I gave her a high five.

I have to say that, in Abby vs. Mommy, Mommy definitely won this battle. Not only because she understood what she did wrong, but because I now know her plotting capabilities when it comes to future head-to-heads. She can no longer pull the I'm-just-a-toddler-and-have-no-idea card with me. She showed me her hand.

Though, I have to say, this kid is pretty smart (she does, after all, take after me), so I have no doubt she'll up the ante next time.

"I love Minnie!"

Over the past week, Abby's love for Minnie Mouse has grown by leaps and bounds.

Daddy brought her a Minnie Mouse stuffed animal from Walgreens and you'd think Abby has a new puppy.

Last night, the perspective of Minnie's importance came crashing down.

As I was getting Abby dressed after her bath, she was laying down, with Minnie. She exclaims, "I love Minnie!"

I reply, "You love Minnie?"

"Yeah! I love Daddy!" she says emphatically.

"I love ... JACK!"

I wait.

"I love MINNIE!"

Pooched by a fake mouse.

My daughter's spin on being a little girl

Abby and her Buzz PJs

I don't know what other two-and-a-half-year-old girls are doing to act out being a mommy, but mine definitely has a unique spin on the concept.

Tonight, after Jack was asleep and Abby had had her bath, we settled down in the living room to look at a book together.

When it was time to go upstairs to read books and go to sleep, I grabbed a bottle for Jack in case he woke up and needed to eat. Abby saw the bottle, and asked if she could have one for Buzz, who she was carrying in her arms.

I made a mission to find the play baby bottles, which I knew I had seen the other day.

As I was digging through the toys, I could hear Abby behind me shushing Buzz to comfort him as I looked for the bottle. "It's okay ..." she said, mimicking what Tom and I do with Jack.

I found the bottle and we headed upstairs.

As I was reading Abby books, she was preoccupied with making sure Buzz was settling in. She was feeding him the bottle (one of those disappearing-milk ones with the companion juice version).

It was at that point I looked at my daughter - decked out in her Buzz and Woody PJs (boys), cradling Buzz in her arms and feeding him a bottle - and thought how much I loved the spin she was putting on being a little girl.

I continued reading (at which point she said, "Shh ... Buzz is sleeping" to mimic what I have to do with her every five seconds of reading time to keep her from waking up Jack), but she was more interested in Buzz.

I finally closed the second book (Buzz chose it. Superhero Me. I told her it was an appropriate choice), told her I loved her and kissed her goodnight. I then kissed Buzz on the helmet and told him goodnight. She was pleased that Buzz was acknowledged the same way she was.

Then I tip-toed out of the room, leaving my little mother to tend to her bundled space ranger.

You know you've lost it when you drive away with your iPad on the top of your car ...

Let me preface this post by saying that no iPads were harmed, lost or stolen during the following incident.

That being said ...

Please don't kill me, dear husband.

I took Abby and Jack to my parents' house today to visit. We visited Mom at work, then grabbed lunch and spent some time with Dad at the house.

The visit lasted about three hours.

I packed the kids up and drove away toward the freeway.

That's when a strange thing happened.

I was sitting at a light waiting to turn when the man next to me began honking frantically.

I immediately became irritated, wondering what this crazy man was doing.

He began pointing emphatically toward the back of my car. Was someone behind me doing something?

I looked at the car behind me in my rearview mirror, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I looked back at the gentleman next to me inquisitively. He pointed toward the back of my car again.

That's when I saw it.

Our (::ahem:: Tom's) iPad on my back window.

My first reaction?

I looked at the gentleman next to me and mouthed, "Can you get it?"

Really, Chrissie? You're looking for this wonderful man who saved your arse to now get out of his car and retrieve your iPad for you?

I quickly got out of the car, got the iPad (which, thankfully, was hanging on to the car thanks to the cover being wedged into the slot of the trunk) and got back into the car. I looked at the gentleman next to me relieved and thankful. Good Samaritan for sure.

As I breathed a sigh of relief that my husband wouldn't be killing me today, I realized that he may have preferred the iPad go missing so he could get a new one with a camera.

Well, Tom, too bad for you, your iPad survived me leaving it on the top of my car and driving away. It actually survived my parents' block and all of Allen Road to the light at Southfield.

Let's make sure we keep this iPad cover - it provides great protection. 

Abby-isms

We have reached a new stage in development: the why-repeat-everything-need-things-now phase.

Yes, that's a thing.

It can definitely drive me up the wall. I remember thinking that the "why" phase really couldn't be that bad. I mean, you just have a little self control.

But once you hit the "why" and "repeat" phase, you recognize why people go insane in solitary confinement when they can hear a single water droplet dripping over and over and over.

The "what's that/why" phase
I thought I would be able to handle this. We're barely into it and it's driving me crazy.

"Mommy, what's that?" as she's pointing in the direction of approximately 75 things while I'm attempting to soothe a crying Jack while making her a waffle.

"I don't know - it's a ... cup."

"No, Mommy, it's a (inaudible)!"

"Yep, sure, sounds good."

Repeat phase, repeat phase, repeat phase
This one may be the death of me.

The other evening, Abby, Tom and I were playing with her Matchbox cars in the kitchen.

We were rolling them back and forth and Abby says, "Mommy? Play cars?"

"Yep, you're playing cars!"

At this point, I'm cheerful and upbeat.

"Mommy? Play cars?"

"Yep! Playing cars!"

I'm keeping it together. Haven't hit the wall yet.

"MOMMY! PLAY CARS!"

"YEP! You're PLAYING CARS!"

"MOMMYPLAYCARS?!"

Now I've lost it.

"YEP ... You're. Playing. Cars."

"MommyAbbyPlayingCars?!"

"DUDE! TAKE THE CAR!"

I-needed-it-a-minute-ago phase
This is typical.

Abby: "Mommy? Abby want crackers?"

Me: "Sure!"

I walk to the cupboard. Before I even get there ...

Abby: "Mommy? More water?"

Me: "Yep, let me get your crackers first."

Abby: "Mommy watch TV?"

Me: "Babe, I can only do one thing at a time."

I still have not successfully retrieved the crackers.

Abby: "Mommy? My finger hurts."

Me: "OHMYGOSHGIVEMEAMINUTE."

Medicine and Abby
Since she had to take antibiotics for an ear infection and because she has three molars currently breaking through, Abby has taken a lot of medication lately.

She now requests it frequently.

Abby: "Mommy? Need medicine?"

Me: "What hurts?"

Abby: "My foot."

Uh huh.

Abby: "Mommy? Need medicine?"

Me: "What hurts?"

Abby: "My finger."

We're working on it.

Manipulation milestone

Abby asked me for M&Ms this evening. She'd already had plenty so I told her we were done with M&Ms for the night.

I hadn't realized that the bowl of M&Ms were on the counter, easily within reach for Abby.

I turned around and she had grabbed the bowl and was smugly walking toward the living room.

Recognizing my defeat, I told her that she could have one and then we were done.

She sits down on her chair, looks up at me and a big smile spreads across her face.

She says, "I looove you."

Her manipulation development is right on track ... in case anyone was concerned.

I want ...

Abby asked for an apple.

I got an apple out of the fridge and peeled it.

Then I cored it.

Then I sliced it.

I asked Abby if she wanted a Buzz bowl.

Yes, she said.

So I put all of the peeled, cored and sliced apples into the bowl and handed it to her ...

She says, "I want an orange."