Note to Self: Never Trust a Toddler With a Secret

Two reasons one should never trust a toddler with a secret:

Reason One
Saturday I purchased a DVD for Himself for his birthday (3 weeks hence) at Costco. I had a coupon that was expiring, so I had to buy it that day. Since it was, in theory, from Woodstock, I showed it to her when I got home - never imagining a 20-month-old could spill the beans so to speak. I said, "Woodstock, look what we got daddy for his birthday!"

Then I put it in the bag of things that needed to go downstairs. About 10 minutes later, Himself came up from the basement. Woodstock gleefully ran to the bag, grabbed the DVD and handed it to Himself, saying, "Happy Birthday Daddy!"

She was so proud of herself. Himself melted into a big puddle - although puzzled by why I had entrusted Woodstock with such information as to what his birthday gift was. I was torn between adoration that she got the context perfect and mild irritation that I was dumb enough to think Woodstock wouldn't "get" it and therefore wouldn't share it.

She then launched into singing "Happy Birthday" - complete with "Happy Birthday to Woodstock," which is the only way she ever sings it. :)

Reason Two:

This was not, actually, a secret, but a good lesson that children have no known boundaries about what should and shouldn't be shared repeatedly.

Himself and Woodstock trekked to the Great Frozen North Sunday for a 2-day trip to see Himself's dad and sister. Himself, in all his parental wisdom, opted to go for "travel light" and didn't bring the pack-n-play. "Woodstock can sleep in a big bed," he said. Um, sure.

On the way home, Himself called to tell me to not be alarmed by the bruise/rug burn on Woodstock's forehead because, well, because she had fallen out of the big bed. I bit my tongue, aching to say "I told you so."

When I arrived home, Woodstock ran into my arms, then said, "Mama. Fall out bed. Ouch head," and pointed to her souvenier of the event. Since then, any time she approaches her (or any other) bed or touches her head, she repeats, "Bed. Fall out bed. Ouch. Head," or some variation. Including sharing this piece of information repeatedly with the sitter.

Good thing it's just a rite-of-passage-for-every-toddler moment. I didn't need to say "Told you so," because it appears Woodstock is never going to let Himself live it down. Four days later and she is still reminding us about "Bed. Fall out bed. Ouch."