We are in the midst of the “I do it” ‘s. Struggling with the desire to let her do things on her own, while mitigating the cleanup that will undoubtedly be involved afterwards. There have been worse messes, but last night was fun – I only wish I had been able to find my camera – I’m blaming the Sarlacc Pit – it’s appetite for all things electronic is amazing.
Daddy was still recovering from his cultural experience from the night before, so it was Quizno’s for dinner. Soapfi decided my Turkey Ranch Swiss looked delightful and managed to grab an entire half and scamper off into the living room. It started out okay, she was using two hands, taking dainty bites while the sandwich obscured half her face (what I had hoped to capture on film), and actually sitting in an almost ladylike fashion in her favorite kid sized chair in front of the TV.
Yes, we are horrible parents who let her watch TV even though she is not two yet – the girl LOVES her some Super Why and since she can shout out and correctly identify the super letters, likes to get up and dance with Mr Noodle, and Mr Noodle’s brother Mr Noodle, and has learned to say “Arrgghh, Matey” (even though it sounds like “Eh, Mickey”) whenever she sees a pirate thanks to Calliou, I refuse to believe that we have rotted her brain completely.
However, as she became more confident in her ability to eat this sandwich herself, things (especially the sandwich) began to fall apart.
First she decided she only needed one hand to control this momentous hunk of bread, deli meat, cheese, and condiment deliciousness. A gaping maw began to develop along the edge, lettuce began to waft gently towards the carpet.
Sit still? How absurd, mommy and daddy need to revel in this glorious achievement, thus the full tilt run back into the dining room, leaving a trail of lettuce Hansel & Gretel would be proud of. And the one handed death grip on the side of the sandwich causes the gaping maw to open wider.
Upon seeing the status of the sandwich I reach out and ask nicely “Would you like help?”. Mistakenly thinking I could repair the gaping maw and mitigate further lettuce bombs on the carpet. Klaxons sound and Soapfi goes into full battle mode, pulling back on the sandwich and shouting “I DO IT”, and running back to the safety of her living room chair. Naturally not taking the original path and leaving another smattering trail of lettuce (reinforcing my opinion that shops put way too damn much lettuce on sandwiches to begin with).
Feeling safer on her home turf, she lets me approach as I try, once again, to extract the quickly disintegrating hunk of food and explain that we now have to clean up the mess.
Oh… a mess! The only thing she loves more than making a mess, it’s helping to clean up the mess…. of course her definition of “helping” is to grab a napkin or towel and proceed to vigorously smash the mess deeper into the carpet while chanting “all clean, all clean, all clean”.
After which I dutifully clapped, thanked her for helping, and reaffirmed my decision to give Alpine Carpet Cleaners one of the speed dial slots on my cell phone .