Today started well enough. Miss G was her usual chipper self this morning. She said her goodbyes to her mamma, we unpacked my lunch, gave the dog and kitty their morning treats, and headed upstairs to the playroom for our usual “let’s play dollhouse” morning activity.
“Grandma I need Anna.”
“Did you look in your pack-pack?” This is the way Miss G says the word backpack. I know that she can hear just fine. When I attempt to correct her and slowly pronounce the “b” by repeating b-b-b-backpack, she gets it, then promptly returns to call it a pack-pack. It isn’t worth the worry at this point.
Anyway, all her little figures and dollhouse family and such are kept in a clear plastic backpack. We looked for Anna (of Frozen fame) and found Elsa easily with her one remaining leg, but no Anna. Yes, our Elsa is an amputee, leg severed completely at the hip in some sort of tragic accident.
Play continued on without Anna for some time, then by chance I noticed that the only other missing item in the little figure repertoire was the dollhouse family little girl. There just happens to be a few special places where these sorts of toys seem to turn up when they go missing. I began to check those places, and in the last spot – behind the headboard of Miss G’s bed – Anna was wedged. We’ve had other instances of toys making their way behind the bed. The last time the toy stayed there until Miss G’s mamma rearranged the furniture. I know how much Miss G loves to play with her little Anna figure, especially since Elsa has suffered her loss and no longer is able to stand or participate very well in dollhouse adventures. With strict notice that the next toy to find its way behind the bed would have to suffer the injustice of living there permanently, grandma retrieved Anna for Miss G.
Exercise time followed and today it was Miss G jumping on her bed. Miss G jumps with an abbreviated side hopping motion, or more often simply keeps her feet planted and thrusts her body upward from a crouch. Today Miss G learned this song
She loved it, especially as grandma bonked her on the head to simulate the monkey’s head bump, and even more so when I lowered my voice, shook my finger and sternly imitated the doctor saying, “No more monkey’s jumpin’ on the bed.” Over and over I heard her say, “Do it again, do it again.”
Aunt Alison came to play, as she does on most Tuesdays. It seemed as if Miss G was getting tired. She has a certain habit of staring and tuning out the world when she begins to get sleepy. She will also wander off to play quietly by herself, not really wanting anyone to play with her. I wondered then if she had not slept well, or maybe had gotten up earlier than usual that morning.
Nap time is typically around 2 PM, with quiet down time and reading or a short kids TV show prior to the actual kisses and tucking into bed. She also gets lots of warnings that nap time is getting closer. There’s only been once, so far, that I have put her down to rest and she hasn’t gone to sleep. No matter how much she likes to tell me she “doesn’t want a nap,” I know that 95% of the time, she still needs one. We are not ready to give up afternoon naps yet. Grandma is emphatic about that.
At 2:00 everything was picked up. Alison said her goodbyes and left. Miss G was asked to go potty prior to nap, which she did without arguing.
“Okay Miss G, off the potty, time for bed.”
“I want to go poo-poo.”
“Do you have to go poo-poo? You just went a little bit ago.”
“But, I want to go poo-poo.” This said with a look that quickly informed me we were in for trouble. The tired eyes, the mouth that quivered as the tears were ready to spill, the clear inability to talk in anything but a whiny voice all spelled out that a melt-down was imminent.
“G, do you have to go poo-poo or not? I don’t think you do. Come on, off the potty, we’re going to nap now.”
“Noooo, I want to go poo-poo!” Cue the tears, the sobs, the I-have-no-intention-of-standing-up, helping-you, walking, or-leaving-this-toilet’ tantrum. Over and over came the pleas telling me “I want to go poo-poo,” not, mind you, I have to go poo-poo, but I want to go poo-poo.
Well of course she wanted to, because then she could avoid going for a nap. Miss G was placed into her bed, grandma put on her saddest, sorriest face and said, “Oh, I am so sad that our happy day had to end like this. It makes grandma so sad and unhappy when you behave this way. I can’t listen to you anymore. You must lay quietly, and close your eyes, NOW”
Which she did, and when I checked on her 5 minutes later, she was snoring.