The Little Twerp

** Cross-posted from my regular blog. Things haven't changed since the original post, last month.

She only LOOKS sweet and innocent

I've had it coming my entire life.

"Just you wait until you have a daughter Just. Like. You." my mom always warned. Of course I just laughed and rolled my eyes.

And then I had a daughter Just. Like Me.

Little Annelie Cecelia. She looks so sweet, so adorable. But in reality, she's a whirling dervish of high energy and non-stop trouble-making. Every time I call my mom and exclaim, in complete exasperation, "Listen to what Annelie just did... I don't know what to do with her!" My mom just laughs and says, "Yep. She's just like you."

Annelie's latest escapades involve sneaking into the bathroom (I'm not sure how she gets past the childproof doorknob covers but, like Houdini, she can get past anything), locking the door behind her, and then getting into all sorts of trouble. The toilet gets flushed repeatedly, the sink over flows, and about 2 inches of water is often found on the bathroom floor. Meanwhile, I'm clawing the doorknob with a bobby pin, and hollering, "ANNELIE! Turn off that water RIGHT NOW!" and "ANNELIE! Flush that toilet one more time and you will be on time out FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!"

And when I see her doing naughty things, and I shout out my usual exclamation of surprise, "HEY!"

... Annelie just closes her eyes and croons oh so sweetly, "You've got to hiiiiide your love away."

When its time to paint, she watches me very, very carefully, just waiting for the moment when I turn my back and she can paint a kitty nose onto her face.

When its lunchtime, she waits until I get up to fetch her a glass of water, so she can shove some peas in her ears.

When its bath time, she waits until I blink, so she can dump a handful of water on the bathmat.

And when its time to get lunch made, she stands directly behind me, waiting for the moment when I turn my back on the fridge and forget to close the childproof lock, so that she can grab the carton of yogurt and run into the living room as fast as she can. And when I notice her, not two seconds later, the damage is already done, of course. Yogurt on the carpet, in her hair, smeared all over her face...

*sigh*

She's a twerp.

But I do have to give her some credit. She is the most affectionate little two year old, for at least a few minutes every single day... well, every single night... well, wee hours of the morning, because I find that the only moments of the day in which Annelie sits still for a cuddle, is when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

"Mama. I wanna cuddle me," she always says. And so I hug her and hug her and hug her some more, remembering the days when she was a sleepy little baby and wanted nothing more than to just be held and adored.

I'm sure I'm making a mistake for taking the time to cuddle her in the middle of the night. I don't know what the Super Nanny would say, but it would probably be along the lines of, "Mummy, what are you thinking!? She needs to be put back in her bed until she learns to sleep through the night. She's already two, for heaven's sake."

But truthfully, if it wasn't for those midnight moments of sweetness, I probably would have sold her on the black market for $2.50 a long time ago.

Okay, maybe not, but the idea certainly would have crossed my mind more often than it already does.

Circa 1983...
I only LOOKED sweet and innocent, too

Mom, I'm sorry. Thank you for not selling me on the black market for $2.50.

And Annelie... if you don't stop that RIGHT NOW, you are going to be on time out for the rest of your life.

xoxo,