Not all it's cracked up to be

I may have mentioned a thousand or so times that M is a very verbal child. I generally love this about her, because I don't have to do much guessing as to what she wants. She simply tells me (over and over and OVER again).

But I've come to realize that there's a downside to all of these communication skills. Since I know darn well what she's talking about, I can't get around saying no to her when the situation warrants it. I mean, if she couldn't talk to me, then I could at least pretend I have no idea what she wants, right? Sure, she'd still end up having a tantrum, but maybe eventually she'd quit asking if her message didn't get through.

But since she knows the words for a lot of things she wants, I'm screwed. For example, M is still obsessed with swimming. All day today, she's been saying "Waader!" at the top of her lungs. Trouble is, it's 56 degrees and raining outside, so swimming is not an option. For a while, I tried to play dumb, and handed her a sippy cup every time she asked for water, but she's not that easy. She just started screaming "NOOOOOO" Sim! Waader!!!" at me (translation: oh my god, Mommy, how stupid are you! I don't want a drink, I want to go swimming!"). So I've explained approximately 3,000 times today that yes, I know she wants to go swimming, but no, I'm not going to let her.

In other news, M's newest attention-getting gambit is making Mommy read her every book she owns, over and over again. It used to be that she wouldn't let me out of her sight, but she would let me sit in the playroom and read while she played quietly. Well, no more. She now not only wants me in the room, but she wants my undivided attention. Every time I pick up my book, she interrupts with her own book, and each one gets read at least 5 times in a row. Today, I was reduced to screaming the words to "But Not the Hippopotamus" at the top of my lungs while I did the dishes, in the hopes that she'd be fooled into thinking I was reading to her. (for the record, it didn't work, and we had to go with Plan B: Let the child scream in the name of basic hygiene).

M is a joy to be around. She brings me no end to happiness, and even at her most exasperating, I can't help but delight in the great little kid she's becoming. But sometimes, I do wish that she didn't view me as her chief playmate.