She's Two!

Deal with it!

This past weekend, we marked the event of Elaine’s second birthday with a bash for the ages (of one, two, and three). Jill took care of most of the prep with a very productive Target run. We had a small helium tank and balloons, cupcakes, a pizza lunch, and little gift bags for all of the kids which contained plastic dinosaurs, party favors, and bubbles. Some of the children blew bubbles, some poured bubble soap onto the lawn, and some just drank it straight from the bottle.

The party, with Elaine's big present in the background. Clockwise, from top: Big Molly, Madeleine, Susanna, Phillipe, Elaine (not pictured: Matthew, Olivia, little Molly


The festivities got underway a little early when Jill got locked in the bathroom at T minus ten minutes. We disassembled the doorknobs, but the mechanism had been installed from the edge of the door. Jill decided that we needed to call someone, leading to this exchange:

Me: I could kick the door in…?
Jill: Really?
Me: Sure!
Jill: (after a pause) OK, I’m in the bathtub.

Needless to say, I didn’t wait for her to change her mind. How often does one get to fulfill destructive fantasies like this? Amazingly, the door survived intact, but we’ll need to get the jamb reassembled. Anyways, this is a total word of warning to any crooks out there who think they can hide from the kicking foot of justice. I know you’re in there, and I’m a-comin’ in! (Please don’t have any weapons, because Jill won’t let me have a gun.)

Sunday night, I got to play Through the Ages: A Story of Civilization for the fourth time. This time, it was just Josh and I. Man, this is a really well-done game at 2, 3, or 4 players. I believe the third printing is underway right now, so I’m definitely going to be picking it up.

Elaine’s birthday fun times continued into Monday night, when we took her and her grandma (technically, grandma paid, but I drove) to Red Robin! Milkshakes, burgers, and balloons, oh my! When we got home, there were presents that had come by mail from various people. She scored some radical toddler clothing, a few small empty boxes (awesome idea), a bunch of crayons, and some books.

We got a lot of good video from the party, but not very many pictures. I’m looking into editing the videos on my MacBook (it has to be good for something) to post at a later time—perhaps on Picasa or Vimeo. Any suggestions for video hosting are welcome.

Daddy's little soldier

Much like the first steps and the first cuss word, the first trip to the ER ranks among the milestones of parenting. Fortunately, our trip was relatively quick (in and out in 150 minutes), and we knew that she was OK.

For posterity...we were at a brunch that was hosted by my new boss, Larry. Elaine was playing contentedly with a toy on the floor, seemingly oblivious to all of the people milling about and the food that, quite honestly, was in easy nabbing distance for her little grappling hooks. I was standing nearby with a plate of food, and Jill was on the other side of the room, filling her plate. Abruptly, Elaine stood up and dashed forward, beginning to babble about something. I moved to put my plate down, keeping an eye on which way she went. She didn't get far. I guess she planned on just blowing past a group of three people standing to my right, but she ran into the back of someone's hand. I think that he was swinging it, as if to gesture, as she ran into it. He says that he was holding a plate.

He bent down and took Elaine by the shoulders, and then looked up at me and said, "I wounded her." I made him repeat himself, because I didn't see a plate or anything; I just saw her stop cold. He turned her around and then I saw the blood. She had a vertical gash in the middle of her forehead, about 1.5 cm long. By this time, her internal clock that gauges the appropriate interval between the instance of pain and the explosion of tears had expired, and we all heard her side of the story. By this time, Jill had arrived at the scene. We zipped her off to the bathroom, and Jill cleaned up the wound. Jill said that she saw subcutaneous fat, which meant that Elaine probably needed stitches. I knew that she was going to be fine, but we were worried about scarring.

Checking in


We disappeared pretty quickly for the UW Medical Center. Elaine had long since forgotten about the incident by the time we got registered in the ER waiting room. Once we finally saw a doctor, and confirmed that she did require a couple of stitches, both Jill and I started to get anxious. Suddenly! Two nurses came in and swaddled Elaine, pinning her arms. The doctor applied a topical anesthetic, waited a few minutes, and then injected a local anesthetic. Then he deftly sewed two stitches, applied some antiseptic, and slapped a bandage on. Through all of this, Elaine made a horrible, gutteral crying sound, her eyes bulging and darting between the unfamiliar faces that were hovering overhead. Tears ran out of her eyes, snot came out her nose, and she drooled so much, she was choking. When they finally released her, she practically peeled off of the bed, she was so soaked in sweat. Needless to say, it took a while to calm her down, and she pretty much just passed out for awhile. Jill and I? Yeah, basically traumatized.

When Elaine woke up, she was just fine. We went to Josh and Megan's place, and Elaine played with Madeleine and the other kids that were there. No problems. We changed her bandage this morning, and she just sat there in my lap, totally unconcerned. I wonder what, if anything, she remembers of the incident.

Who's afraid of the little old lady who lived in a shoe?

Elaine, probably. She's shown remarkably few hangups in the past. The bath is the only exception, where she screams terribly when her head is being washed or rinsed. I did the same thing as a baby. The terrible thing is that I remember thinking that my mom was going to drown me in the tub...not on purpose, of course, but completely accidentally. It's one of those times when you feel like matters are totally out of your hands, I guess, which is really scary. I hope Elaine doesn't think that about me, though.

The shoes thing started up recently. We had bought her these Robeez knockoffs at Target a few months ago, and she's worn them all summer. Then we got a bunch of clothes from a local friend, and there were some shoes in there. She was obsessed with this pair of white sandals that were too small for her. She still insists on being put into them occasionally. Then there were the Pooh shoes and a pair of blue sneakers with laces. These have both been favorites. The problem is that the blue shoes are the only ones left that really fit her.

Our troubles began with the galoshes. You may have heard that it rains here, and we thought that a pair of galoshes would be a prudent addition to Elaine's wardrobe. Jill found a pair at Nordstrom's, and we presented them to Elaine, confident that she would be instantly transformed into a hooting bundle of galoshes-possessing toddler joy. Instead--Tragedy! Horror! Betrayal! She wouldn't even touch them, and backed away from them like they were a nest of snakes. I basically forced them onto her feet, and she took two steps and just stood screaming at her feet until I pulled them off. After calming her down (no easy task) she decided to join me on the couch. Upon pulling herself up and rolling over, she found herself inches from the dreaded boots and did the same nest-of-snakes hasty retreat, accompanied by another screaming fit.

Jill took them back and exchanged them for another color. We left them in the middle of the basement room without any fanfare or acknowledgement, hoping to just acclimate her to their presence. She will tolerate their presence, but if you pick one up and show it to her, you still get a strong reaction. We found that this newly acquired phobia extends beyond galoshes, however. Today, I pulled out a new set of Fauxbeez (what we call the Target brand Robeez). We had previously purchased the next larger size in different colors, and I figured that those that she'd been wearing were getting a bit tight on her. She freaked. Now, I had put these shoes on her feet before, when they were much too big for her. There was no reaction then, so this is something new. I made her wear them today, and she quickly forgot about them.

Part of our trip out was to go to Target, and Jill wanted to get some larger sneakers for her. Going down the aisle that was full of new shoes was pretty traumatic for her. There was shrieking and hyperventilating. I could picture images of Dora the Explorer pink and white sneakers swirling threateningly around her head as Hannah Montana strappy sandals (with the pink glitter) bared their teeth at her and growled. I left her in the cart and walked about 20 feet away. I reached over and picked up an perfectly nice white slipper and showed it to her. Same reaction. I told Jill to just pick something out without us, and pushed the cart to the next section. It was like turning off a faucet. She was totally fine.

Humans are weird.