I didn’t pick my daughter up from her babysitter’s house until a little after six today because I had so much school work to do in my classroom. As a result she had already ate, and by the time we drove up to our house, she was out like a light.
Because I somehow had more school work to do upon our arrival home, I let Grace sleep on the couch for a bit while I worked, knowing
my husband we would pay the price later.
She woke up at eight, groggy, and teetering on the verge of a toddler meltdown, but not quite slipping over the edge, until dad went to change her diaper and put her into P.J.’s., at which point all madness b-r-o-k-e loose!
There were tears, and screams, thrashing body parts, and sobs, pleads for mommy, and many, many shouts of “Mease! Mease! Mease!” Which is toddler for please. (Grace only uses please when she wants to be let down or let go of.) The tears did not stop once her soiled diaper was swapped for a fresh one, her clothes exchanged for one of her brother’s shirts which she has inherited and now uses as a night gown.
Upon helping Grace up, and amid Grace’s cries of sadness, Ken handed her the clothes he had changed her out of. “Go put these away,” he said to her. Despite her tears and impending doom, Grace took the clothes from her dad’s hands and stomped off to her dirty clothes hamper, sobbing all the way there and back.
It was TOO much! At least she has her priorities straight, and I don’t have to worry about seeing her dirty clothes tossed all over the floor of her room.
She proceeded to hug Ken on her way back (still sobbing), and curl up on my
lap to cry for another good ten minutes before finally calming down.