Chocolate and Knives

I am terribly sentimental, though not so much on the outside. This, more than any sort of inherent "mothering" gene I think is what causes my heart go to mush every time I look at Baby Girl.

She is quickly becoming her own little person - the personality traits evident from birth are becoming more clearly defined. She is serene, content and joyful. I previously thought all babies were happy - after all, how hard is life when you have the entire world at your beck and call? But Baby Girl takes it a step further in her absolute pleasure in just being.

She will flash an enormous grin every single time Himself or I walk into the room - even if we've only been out of the room for seconds. She naps and sleeps through the night - sighing contentedly as I rock her while I read at night. She slurps on her big toe (sometimes attempting to do so while nursing - much to my consternation). She giggles when you kiss her neck or make goofy faces (she's probably laughing at us, but we pretend we're funny). When I pick her up from Miss Jan's, she has a running commentary of monosyllabic noises as I change her clothes. I tell her about my day and ask about hers - and she chats on and on and on. Her face lights up when the little girls at Miss Jan's come running to greet her when I drop her off each morning, basking in the attention they lavish on her.

However, we're discovering (as we already suspected) she is stubborn and determined. If there is a toy she cannot quite reach - she will fling herself, grunt, stretch, pull on the blanket and kick her legs like a little frog until either the toy is in reach or she has exhausted herself. She insists on holding the spoon each time it is brought to her mouth. If her diaper is dirty, she lets you know - immediately.

Last night, the door to her determination opened even further.

Baby Girl typically sits in her seat on the kitchen counter (silencing all of the CAUTION labels on said seat about not putting baby on high places) and watches me cook. Now that she's dabbling in the fine art of solid foods (rice cereal = bad, bananas = good), I also feed her in it. It sits under the kitchen window in the one spot of counter that has enough space to hold the chair (thereby negating any counter space I might have to actually prepare dinner, but that is neither here nor there). She watches and plays and chatters. Last night, she took it one step further.

Himself bought me a Lindor white coconut chocolate bar for Valentine's day. Because my Valentine's day candy lasts forever, I still have three squares left, which I nibble on occasionally. It has been sitting beside Baby Girl's chair on the kitchen counter for a month.

Last night, I had a bite, put it back in the wrapper and box and went to get dinner ingredients out of the fridge. I heard some grunting and a strange sound of crumpled foil.

I turned around to find Baby Girl hanging over the side of her chair with the box in her mouth, her little hands grabbing at the foil. I'd post a picture, but that would require me getting it off my camera first. I was so stunned, I took a photo to show Himself when he got home (the new age of discipline: "Just wait until your father gets home and I show him PROOF!").

I extracted the chocolate box and foil from Baby Girl's hands, rearranged her in her seat and took a knife out of the knife block to chop an onion. Frustrated at her short-lived chocolate adventure, Baby Girl immediately reached for the knives. That's when I discovered just how determined she is - and just how long her arms have grown. A box and foil with chocolate is one thing. A steak knife (the only ones light enough for her to grab - for now) is entirely something else.

Baby Girl's days of countertop sitting are over. Chocolate and knives are too much on one mother's heart in an evening.