Stories of life in the suburbs with Husband and our daughter Squishy and son Button!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Squishy's Silly Baby Antics

Squishy weighs 19 pounds. She's 27 inches tall. She has only two teeth. She's a tiny human. My question is: Why is it that she has more stuff than Husband and I combined?! Seriously, where the heck did all this crap come from? She has a walk in closet (full of crap), a bedroom (full of crap), a cupboard in the bathroom (you guessed it, full of baby crap), and FOUR (1, 2, 3, 4!) places to store other things that Squishy had acquired, probably behind our backs. I think the grandparents are giving her credit cards and rides to the mall...

Storage places:
  • First, a big pink canvas bin with butterflies on it. 
  • Second is a a pink nylon tote box that is supposed to be for baby bath items, but I'm using it for every day toys.
  • Next is a contraption hanging on the back of her closet door with different envelope-like compartments that holds books and other things. 
  • Finally, on one of her closet shelves is a large collection of stuffed animals and toys. 
  • There are two outlying piles of books located at either rocking chair: one by the living room window and the other next to the glider in Squishy's room.  
There is a quilt my grandma made on the floor at all times for her to roll around on, a bumbo chair to practice sitting, and a baby gym for reaching and kicking. Also a jumper that fits in any of the 5 practical door frames around the apartment. All in all, toys and the like are readily available whenever she needs entertainment.

That said...

Why does she find the most enjoyment out of playing with a dirty sock, or a headband? I swear. Grandma spent $24.99 on that Jellycat stuffed zebra, and all she wants is to chew the tag. I usually laugh and shake my head at these cute little antics, but what she did this morning takes the cake.

Squishy gets lotioned every day to keep her eczema at bay and to maintain smooth baby-butt like skin. She usually tolerates legs and back (done first), but when I get to her arms and tummy she has a few things to say about that. It's a nessesity for her comfort, and only takes a few minutes every day. But once she sees the lotion bottle, she knows what's coming and I have to apply distractions so she doesn't attempt escape. We have named lotion as Squishy's number one nemesis. So you can understand my surprise when I look down today and see she has rolled over to the coffee table and was chewing on the lotion bottle with a huge smile on her face.

Ah, TJoM. (The Joys of Motherhood)

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