love the one you're with

With Brooklynn meandering about the house on a regular basis these days, it isn’t uncommon to turn around and find out she is either attempting to stand up using the back of your leg as a balancing post or that she has managed to go forward somewhere and has yet to develop the ability to properly move backwards and extricate herself. That, or she might be standing up underneath the table again and hitting her head on the support beams while she tries to walk out from under it. I know that every parent is supposed to think that their child is a genius prodigy and all, but there are times when I question her intelligence.

I’ve personally seen a six-month old calf get stuck in the corner of a fence and Brooklynn seems to resemble that level of thinking a little too often for my liking. Let’s just hope that she eventually get above the mental level of a bovine sometime here in the next few years. Given the misguided way she crawls around the floor looking for Cheerios, she has a ways to go.

This morning happened to be one of those times that she was wandering about the house while Rhiannon and I got everything packed up and ready for the day. Rhiannon walked back into the kitchen one last time and passed close to where Brooklynn had planted her butt on the floor. The baby looks up and thinks to herself, “Hmm, I would wager that if I do something cute and semi-adorable, I may trick this tall creature into transporting me around, thereby conserving my own energy for something much more mischievous latter on.”

She threw both hands up in the air and smiled. Rhiannon picked her up. Wager won. (Also, note how I compare her intelligence to a calf and then in the next breath, I give her credit for subtly manipulating the primary caregivers in her life for nefarious purposes. This just proves how little I actually understand about babies.)

This behavior is an example of how she is becoming more physically expressive every day. One of the latest consistent examples is what I like to refer to as the “puddle of jelly” cry. Basically, it consists of something going wrong and Brooklynn collapsing in a heap of crying baby. Normally, her head ends up between her feet and, if you didn’t know any better, you might believe the world was coming to an end. Or, perhaps we wouldn’t let her bang her sippy cup on the table. I really can’t tell what might be worse in her opinion.

I hear from Rhiannon that Brooklynn will cry and collapse and holler pretty much every day when she gets picked up from daycare. I guess this is a good thing, because it seems to indicate that she enjoys how she spends her weekdays, like the other kids there, and isn’t sitting by the door hoping we arrive. But it does hurt Rhiannon’s pride a little. Isn’t a baby supposed to be excited when Mom arrives rather than fleeing for the opposite side of the room?

Rhiannon called me this morning and reported that we had an end-of-the-world event at the morning drop off, only this time it was the fact that Brooklynn wanted to stay with her.

So, either the baby just really doesn’t like change of venue and prefers to stay with whoever is currently watching her or, given a few hours, she forgets about anyone who might have ever previously cared for her.

Considering that Rhiannon and I are going on our first extended trip without her in the near future, let’s hope it’s the former and the fact that she can at least stay at home is enough to get her through the time we’re gone. My parents are coming to watch her and I’d hate to think what an entire week of “The World is Ending!” Brooklynn would do my status in their will.