Huh?

So, The Little Lady is either a genius baby, deliberately choosing when to listen to me, or takes after her father (in which case, she is definitely choosing when NOT to listen to me).

This week, it seems as though nearly every other word out of my mouth has been “Don’t.” This word is usually followed by an invisible exclamation point, but I know that there are those who frown upon the overuse of this handy-dandy piece of punctuation, so I am leaving it off. Hope you’re happy!!

“Don’t eat that.”

(“That” usually is referring to the dog food; she’s obsessed with it! Oops — sorry for the arbitrary exclamation point.)

“Don’t you touch that.”

“Don’t put your hand in that toilet”

“Don’t pull my hair”

“Don’t lift up my shirt.”

(this one has variations: “Quit lifting up my shirt.” “Quit undoing those buttons.” “Would you mind taking your hand out of my bra?” I do not understand her fascination with what lies underneath my clothing — she wasn’t breast-fed, so it’s not like she’s remembering pleasanter times.)

Each time any “don’t” phrase frustratedly escapes my lips, the Little Lady smiles, laughs, pretends to cry, or just flat out ignores me and continues to do whatever bad/dangerous thing she wants. Lately, her most popular retort is “Huh?” or “Hmm?”, as though reminding me that “she’s only one and can’t understand a single word I say, so how can I expect this little innocent one year old to comply with my harsh directives.” (sigh — is this what it will be like the rest of her life?)

But here’s where I think I’ve caught her in her own game (or, this is where her genius self takes over): she has randomly picked up four new “tricks” this week.

She appropriately (and very cutely, I might add) says “Wow!” whenever she is amazed.
She can show you the location of her mouth.
She can show you her pearly whites.
She tells herself “Good girl” as she goes down our stairs the way we’ve taught her.

Now, I have not worked on any of these new tricks with her. I didn’t teach her when to say “wow;” I haven’t shown her where her mouth or teeth are; and I haven’t prompted her to say “good girl.”

Do I have a genius baby on my hands? Possibly. Or, the Little Rat really is listening to me: when I tell her she’s a good girl, when I talk about her new teeth, when I say “wow” over something she has done. . . . .

If the latter is the case, then the truth is staring me in the face. My one year old diva is just like her daddy — only taking in whatever the heck she wants to and ignoring my nagging.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.