The Burkerts 3

At your last doctor’s appointment the nurse asked if you were following small commands. Immediately I thought, “We don’t really operate according to small commands,” and so I had a hard time coming up with any. Well, I just thought of one:

GO TO SLEEP!

I put you down for a nap, which was a response to your having fallen asleep in the car. Are you asleep? Umm, is the Pope Jewish? Okay, next question: Are you jabbering away to Manuella and the duck, clapping rhthmically?

I’m going to have to get rid of Posey. At this point I am certain she is the ringleader of this bedtime ridiculousness. You are tired, tired, tired at naptime and bedtime, then you get in the bed and act like a yo-yo. You are sleepy. I know this because today when I went to pick you up at school you were asleep on your mat. Clearly you fell asleep while sitting up because your body was just tumped over in your lap, your head resting on your feet. For a moment I thought you had taken your shoes off and were holding them as substitute lovies, but no. You at naptime today was a picture of total exhaustion.

All this to say, “Shush up and go to sleep, you big nana-banana!” Of course it makes me feel a little better to know that Mya isn’t asleep at her house either. If Em-mama-ly can’t force the nap issue within the next half hour, they are coming over. I hope they come. I can guarantee at least one of us will be awake…

(Later)

Dawg-nabbit, you willful chickadee. I was just about to write and say, “Hallelujah, I think you’ve nodded off,” when suddenly I heard a little yell out of you. I swear, you crack me up.

(Even later.)

Well, you and Mya clearly rule. Dear Em-mama-ly came over and the four of us had a nice visit,then your dad and I got to deal with your less-than-chipper mood, which was courtesy of your shenanigans with the duck and Manuella. Now you are in your bed. Do I even need to mention that you are not asleep?

Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s twins were born the other day and are now rumored to be fetching upwards of fifteen million dollars for their first public photographs. Well, this is very perplexing to me. Granted, they are going to be very pretty, but certainly not lovelier than you, my sweet potato. I am starting to wonder if I need to start charging grandparents and friends for photos containing your pretty little mug, see if we can’t start generating some income off of you.

Seriously? I dig perusing the latest copy of People magazine as much as the next guy (or at least as much as your grandpa enjoys looking through the Star magazine), but this rings absurd to me, wahoo. Anyway, lest I get on my soapbox about this, let me share with you a picture your dad and I think is worth fifteen million dollars. It was done by you, Miss Katato Van Gogh, just yesterday.

And just to follow up on the missing tops of the crayons? I found them a couple of diaper changes later. Very upsetting. Let’s do better.

Hooray! Your dad just showed me how to put pictures on the blog again, so I’m back in action.

Here are some nice pictures of you in your bikini that Ace, Nana and Tyland gave you. Of course there was no card with the gift so for quite some time we thought Don gave it to you, which we just found weird. Anyway, we went over to Tyland’s on the fourth of July for some swimming.

And here’s the one where your granny says you have a little devilment in you:

And here you are just being so very pretty:

And lastly, here’s your little friend Tyland:

And last but not least, here you are with a hair-do! We like to play Tresemme hair salon:

I mentioned in the last post that I didn’t have long to write, so forgive me for leaving out a few important stories.

Most importantly, when your N and P were giving hugs and saying their goodbyes you just started bawling. Your dad and I just looked at one another and shook out heads because we knew that you were just trying to make them feel good, you little fritter-biscuit. Well, your NeeNee just couldn’t let go of her crying girl; she kept circling around for “just one more” hug. As they drove off I think we could see them visibly falling more enamored of you, although we certainly couldn’t hear them for all your commotion. Immediately after they took off we put you in the bed where you then slept for three hours. What a busy weekend we had, although I suspect you were emotionally drained from your upset at seeing two of your favorite people leaving town.

You do have a talent for making people feel good. One day you were hanging out with Ashley and Calvin and when Ashley asked you if you were ready to go see mommy and daddy, you put down what you were working on, waved “bye-bye” to Calvin and walked to the door. Aww shucks, sugar! Then, one day when I picked you up from daycare you were sitting on your mat, one shoe off and one shoe on. When you saw me you immediately picked your escapee shoe off the floor and started trying to put it on your foot. Nice work, little cha-cha.

You were in no hurry to get your shoes on this afternoon when I picked you up, in part because I suspect you knew you had your 15 month doctor appointment. I swear that you are one of the worst patients I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Forget the shot–the shot was the easy part of this visit. You started crying the moment the nurses walked in the room, then bawled throughout Dr. Alsentzer’s examination of you. Little buddy, has a stethoscope attacked you at some point in your young life? You just went beserk when Dr. A put that little disc on your chest. And trying to examine your eyes? Fuhgeddaboutit. Horrendous. At the end of the exam Dr. A took you across the room and had you walk over to me. Well you took two steps and threw yourself on the floor, bum up, as though you were completely worn out and going to take a nap at that exact moment. She laughed and I would have except your sniffles were doing a little number on me. You were so worn out you were still right there when the nurse came in to give you your shot. Simply pitiful. I asked the nurse what she does at the end of every day because I can’t imagine feeling like I’d want to talk to ANYONE after dealing with patients like you all day, and she said she just says no to everything and begs her boyfriend for a massage. I think pediatric nurses deserve mega-bucks. Or at least great Christmas gifts.

Anyway, you are average for height (51%), small for weight (20. 11 pounds, 14%) and above average in head circumfrence (61%). I asked about your extreme hatred of bathing and was told not to give it up. Given your fondness for smearing your meals in your hair, I don’t think we were looking at doing that anyway.

So there you have it. You are healthy. And just a little bit ridiculous.

One last thing: The other night you woke up yelling at 1:30 in the morning. I guess you were having a nightmare. I thought maybe we’d just put you in the bed with us and we’d all drift right back to sleep, but (per usual) once you saw you were in our bed you perky-ed right up, sitting on your dad’s pillow as he tried to ignore you.

We’re off to the store. Perhaps you will wear your tiara, although you wear it around your neck, refusing to have anything on your head. This goes for your sunglasses too. You love them, but you love them on your neck. We’ve tried to show you, but you are firm in your commitment to the sunglasses working best on the neck. Okay.

One more last thing: This morning I got to take you to daycare because your dad was busy with work. Girly-may, I think you are fully adjusted. You walked in your room and never looked back. You saw your little buddies and just went to join the crowd. I was a little stunned by what a difference this was from the last time I took you, when I left the building listening to you cry out, “Mamamamama!” I won’t lie–it was a little upsetting to think how much you clearly didn’t need me. Good grief, but that seems pitiful. I don’t want to be one of those moms. Anyway, I’ve fully recovered and am now just really happy we have this nice daycare where you have friends. Good times.