|We're buds here.|
It quickly became a battle of wills. E is pretty adorable and feisty. What she didn't count on is Auntie Bronwyn is meaner than her. I've lived longer, and I've got more insurance.
First we had supper -- that part went pretty well. I gave her a spoon to play with and while she was trying to put it in her mouth, I shoved food in there. She ate almost the whole bowl. It wasn't until we were moving on to other things when suddenly she decided there would be NO MORE OF THIS and started screaming. Problem with that is it was time for meds and I knew it would be easier if she was strapped in.
I was wrong.
I put the syringe full of medicine near her face and she turned. No problem. I got it in her mouth and put the tiniest amount past her lips. She drooled it onto her chest. I used her spoon to put some in her mouth. She spit. I wiped it off her face with my finger and decided to sneak it in that way. She bit me. Finally, I got as much of it in her mouth as down her shirt and in my hair. I figured it was close enough. On to bath time.
|Don't let her innocent face fool you.|
Except she started to doze off. I figured it was a sign, so I pulled her out of the tub. She came willingly until she saw the lotion I had to put on her. FREAK OUT. She went stiff as a board and tried to lay down on top of me. She wailed and sobbed and moaned. I mean, until she saw her pjs and then she got distracted.
It alternated like that for the next 10 minutes. I would put the lotion on the baby (or she gets the hose again) and she would be FURIOUS until something shiny happened and she forgot she was supposed to be mad. The diaper went on while she was standing because there was no convincing her otherwise. It was hard to keep a straight face while strapping RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION baby into her footy pyjamas.
We got her done, she calmed down, and we went to warm up her bottle to prepare for the night. I let her stare at the microwave while I warmed the bottle and checked to make sure it wouldn't burn her. We sat down in the rocking chair and started to read a book about the Little Owl. It was adorable. E was not impressed. She wanted the other book. Fine. I like Goodnight Moon. Except she didn't like that one. She wanted the Owl one. No, the Moon one. NO. THIS IS NOT RIGHT.
Fine. No more books. I got her bunny out of the crib and her swaddling blanket. She bit the bunny by the ear and growled. Then she screamed. I was sure the neighbours were going to call on me by this point. She had done little but scream bloody murder between laughing fits for the last hour. But I was not to be deterred. Blanket on, bunny in hand (and teeth), bottle given, I walked away from the crib -- only to hear the bottle being flung across the room.
Howling ensued. I waited a few seconds and turned back. She had wrapped the blanket around herself in a way that would cut off circulation and was trying to stand up. The howling had turned into hyperventilating. I picked her up. Crying ceased. It was like one of those dolls from the 90s. Put her down - cry; pick her up - happy.
|Grumpiest baby to ever have grumped|
She fought going to sleep harder than any baby I've seen in a long time. She alternately bit her bunny and my sweater as though we were her captors she had to battle. Finally, she slumped in defeat. It was not a giving in to tired as much as it was a giving up because there is NO POINT TO LIFE ANY MORE. If she could have rolled her eyes and HARUMPHed, I'm sure nothing would have expressed her opinion more clearly.
She fell asleep despite herself and only woke when I placed her in the crib to give me one last growl and bite her bunny firmly on the ear before falling back to sleep. I backed out of the room slowly holding my breath.
I had won, but it was a tenuous victory.