It is Baby Kidling week on the book of alice.
Why?! Because I’m your mother, that’s why!
Oh, sorry. I mean… um… let me back up. You see, The Mama got herself a fancy new job, so I decided to write a week of stories about a time when I had only an inkling how ridiculous my child would some day be. It might or might not be designed to ensure I don’t:
- Worry about what I am going to write, and then
- Rush to my trusty silly-log (aka notebook) for recent entries, before
- Noticing how low said silly-log is stocked with quotes, and
- Realize it is because she is at pre-school five days a week now, before finally
- Bursting into tears.
It is a good plan, isn’t it?
So let’s get this party started:
December 2009, 23 months old
I don’t, obviously, recall all of the details of this little encounter. What I do remember is this: it was winter in Iowa. We were heading outside. Almost two-year-old Alice Munchkin Kidling was not happy about being required to bundle up.
With tears streaming down her Baby Kidling face, she vehemently declared, “Alice Kidling sad.”
That my child, at nearly two, was referring to herself in the third person using her full name ought have been an early indication of her precocity and self-aggrandization (I don’t care if that isn’t a word. Don’t you know it is my first day on a new job?! Back off, jerk).
But I remained clueless. We all know better now, no?