One, Two, Eight!

Isabelle is full of silly-isms and a touch of the devil these days. Although she will regularly count to ten when asked (or if she is off playing by herself and chatting happily), when she gets ready to do something and the count down is on she invariably says "one, two...eight!" I am not quite sure why eight pops in here and of course I cant help but think of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and the knight who always counts "one, two, five" all the time. Perhaps I watched that movie one too many times and somehow through osmosis she has a touch of Mont Python in her genes. Poor child.

Other silliness includes saying "poor [so and so]" is she ever has to say no to them. For instance, today I asked to borrow her stool so I could hang something in her room. Despite asking "please" I was summarily told "no." Isabelle then said, "poor Mama." She will also call you "poor" if she beats you with a drumstick, flute, or various other toddler-weapon.

One area where I know my genes are certainly at play is her devilishness. My Mom will cackle when she reads this, but I see my past catching up with my future (if you haven't heard about the time I asked my Mom to play 'opera' and when she was in a full wail, shoved my dirty sock into her maw...well, I'll tell you about it sometime. Heh, heh, heh. Whew!). Oh, I digress. My apologies.

Anyhow, at least once in a weekend, bless his soul Paul, gets up with Isabelle and tries to give me an extra hour or two of sleep. This is not easy because Isabelle (a) is a noisy toddler and (b) is all Mama all the time on the weekends. So he brings her down stairs and closes the gate, lest she get back up and wake me. She will always make an attempt to get up the stairs (she cant yet open the gate), but Paul sees her heading toward them and usually stops her (if he doesn't I will often awake to te sound of a bleating child and a gate being rattled as if a battering ram were being used). The bottom line is he keeps a close eye on her so she doesn't even get to the stairs.

Well, Paul is a creature of habit and drinks a pot of black coffee first thing every morning. Isabelle knows this. This past weekend Paul was on toddler-duty when Isabelle noticed his cup was empty and told him "Daddy. Get coffee." She then waited in stealth and as soon as his back was turned, made a mad dash for the gate. I was up soon thereafter.

In other dastardly news she also has tried to (and I admit once successfully) duped me. See, Isabelle likes to draw wit crayons. Mostly though she likes to eat crayons. And while I let this go for a long time the fact that now colored crayon drool ends up as our decorating scheme has forced a change in my permissiveness. So no eating crayons has been the mantra for four of five months now.

Another thing Isabelle enjoys is playing "sleep" with me and Paul. We each pretend to be asleep until she assaults bodily us and tells us "wake up!" This game can sometimes last 15 minutes and she will decide to play it on a whim. So I am laying on the couch the other night and she says "Mama sleep." I dutifully close my eyes and wait to be pummelled. Five seconds pass. Then ten. At this point I wonder whats going on and crack my eyes open ever so slightly to see my darling daughter chomping on "Barn Red." When she sees me see her, she implores me again, "Mama sleep!" But its too late and the crayons are removed.

Isabelle tried the "Mama sleep" ruse on one other occasion, but I was wise and caught her before the could write on the mirror with a marking pen. Somehow, I doubt this is the end of my being duped by one charming, chubby, wonderful, little girl.