The words penetrated the sleepy haze surrounding my brain early this morning. I checked on the little nursling at my breast and snuggled back down into my pillow, trying hard to ignore the heated discussion coming from down the hall.
“NO! NO! NO Daddy! I NO weah dat one!”
“Come on kiddo. It’s time to get dressed.”
“No! I NO weah dat one!”
“Ok. Fine. What do you want to wear then?”
“Euhhhh….” I hear C shifting and I can imagine her lying on her belly on her changing table, peering over the edge into the drawer that contains her clothes. “I wanna weah….”
“Come on C, chose!”
“Euhhhhhh… DAT one!”
“That’s not even a shirt. Pick something else.”
At that point sleep mercifully overtook me and the end of the conversation was lost to posterity. A half hour later M came into the room to finish getting ready.
I cracked an eye.
“So what did she end up wearing?”
“Oh.” He smiled. “She’s wearing the outfit you picked out.”
I smiled and closed my eye. She just likes to feel like she’s in control, but for the moment, I’m still the boss.
Then M told me that he had to run some errands in the area and he’d come back to pick C up after he was done. She climbed into bed with me to watch Sesame Street and I woke up from the delusion that I’m the boss of anything.
And not to change the subject or anything… but it’s 10:30pm and Little L is still bright eyed and wide awake. Yeah. I’m totally the boss. OF NOTHING!