Jan 28, 2012
I’m disassembling the Monster’s crib. It has been home to bears, bunnies, dolls, unfolded laundry, and, lately, a guitar and a mandolin, but never the Monster.
This is not precisely true. When she was very, very little and unable to climb out, I would sometimes put her in there so I could go in the bathroom to pee and listen to her scream. Also, I would, from time to time, put her in there and play the guitar and sing to her, while she stood, clinging to the bars, and chewed on the top rail. I would also try to put her in the crib on those rare occasions that she fell asleep when I had enough energy to think of getting something else done, but about half the time she would wake up screaming the moment I let go of her, and the other half she would wake up screaming half an hour later. As a person who does not care overmuch for screaming, I generally preferred to let her snooze next to me, or on me, although this limited my activities.
This is where ‘normally’ you would get a quaint little picture of a crib full of teddy bears, bunnies, guitars and what-not, but frankly the rough sketch was boring, and I don’t have time to come up with something better because I have been making Daffodil a crown out of craft-foam. Although it as yet unpainted and looks like something out of a bad science-fiction movie, she says it is “good for playing Queen of the Nile.” This gives me a twinge and makes me feel I have short-changed her education, but then I think, “Perhaps I didn’t hear that right and she means ‘Queen of Denial’.” She has no way of knowing this was my favorite joke when Discordia, in her Terrible Twos, restricted her vocabulary to a single word (Me: “Are you the Queen of Denial?” Discordia: “NO!” Me: “Ahahahaha!” It never got old.)
Anyway, no picture. How’s that for denial?