Category: monkey antics

…for the most part.

Today I sent my child to daycare in her pj shirt. It sort of passed for a long-sleeved t-shirt. I just couldn’t bring myself to fight her, found it pointless to pack another long-sleeved t-shirt, and so I just let it go. I no longer have room to talk about much, now do I?

Arm all better
Originally uploaded by babykahuna

This evening while dismounting from a piggy-back ride, MAM starting screaming in pain. An hour later, she was still screaming, so we loaded her (along the hot dogs I’d just fixed her for dinner, extra clothes, and a few snacks) into the car for a trip to the ER.

We register, and get settled into a room, complete with a Cars DVD. As the movie starts, BgK says, “I wonder if we’ll make it through this movie.”
MAM is calm, but treating her arm gingerly, simply laying it on my shoulder and wincing at the slightest movement.

The doctor comes to assess, the x-ray tech come with the machine. We get the results (based on a non-eventful xray) that MAM is suffering from a case of nursemaid’s elbow. OUCH!

I hold her tight and close my eyes, the doc pops her elbow back into place and wonder baby is fixed. She’s laughing. Jumping up and down off of the hospital bed, washing her hands, hugging her new pillow that the nurse gave her and life is good.

The credits on the 116 minute movie finish rolling as I sign the discharge papers. We say good bye, and MAM walks into the hallway on her own steam, happily clutching her new pillow…..she turns to look back and BANG! catches the corner of her forehead on a metal laundry bin. OUCH.

We leave the ER exactly as we entered–screaming child in arms and an ice pack on the affected area. Nice, eh?

So Stork wanted to know about the battle of the shirt. Since I dressed the top half of my daughter three days this week in the parking lot of her daycare, I decided it was time to dish.

Being slightly over the age of two, MAM is entitled to be particular. I understand that. I understand her need to get her own night time pull up, to search for one with a “green dragon” (DragonTales pull ups, you see), to put it on by herself. I understand her need in the morning to take it off and trash it by herself. I understand her need to do a lot of things.

I don’t understand her aversion to getting dressed. Oh she doesn’t mind getting her panties shorts on each day. It’s the shirt she refuses. It’s her arms that she locks down on her sides. Short of cutting off her pajama top, I don’t know how to make it her give. So I don’t.

I toss her her shirt, which she most likely tosses aside as she plays with her toys while I get things ready for the day. As we prepare to leave the house, I mention her shirt one more time. Sometimes she decides that it’s a good time to get dressed. Sometimes she doesn’t.

I know I could press the issue, but I really don’t like starting my day that way. So we make our way to daycare, where I once again offer her the shirt. And she looks at it like she hasn’t even seen it before, like why didn’t I show it to her sooner? Why did I let her leave the house half dressed? And she happily puts on her shirt in the parking lot.

This too is just a phase, right?