Pinkshirts (Blueberry Shorts)

October 14th, 2013 by Potato

Wayfare bought Blueberry some new outfits recently, including one that looks like the DS9/late TNG Star Trek uniforms: bar of colour across the shoulders, black body and pants. “Aww, she’s going to be in the Starfleet Confectionary Corps!” I said on seeing it. Explaining further, the colour is pink, rather than red/yellow/blue, so my mind immediately filled in the gap: blue for science and medical, etc. — what would fit pink? Confectionary is what seemed appropriate. Anyway, whatever else a pink Starfleet uniform might signify, it’s cute.

She’s starting to get afraid of stuff. In one tragically hilarious episode, she has a few stuffed animals that make noise when you squeeze them. She leaned on the cow without knowing, and it started mooing behind her, scaring her. Then the next day, she had taken all the toys out of the box to play with except the cow, stuck in a corner of the box. “No” she’d say, shaking her head and pointing at the cow “Shhh, shhh.” [Translation: be quiet and don’t wake the scary cow!]

Things I have inadvertently taught her today: to punch daddy in the crotch, and to pee on herself. The parents out there will know that the context is almost entirely unneeded: at this point I’m boned. To tell the tale anyway, bathtime is the best time. She typically gets a bath every other day, and even at 18 months knows it: on her off days she’s pretty good about not asking for one, but when she knows it’s bath day anything will have her hopefully asking “bath?” Running the water, seeing an ad with people on the beach, getting dirty, anything. So this morning she woke up with a diaper malfunction, covered in pee. “Well, let’s go have a bath.” “Bath?” She asked at first, confused by the unusual timing and not sure I’d actually said it. Then it sunk in: “Bath! Bath!” So yep, now I expect every morning I’m going to find her covered head to toe in pee, ready for that morning bath.

Then later we were playing with flashlights. On, off, on, off, on, off, etc. Then she gave me the flashlight, and then wanted it back. So the next time rather than just holding it behind my back, I put it in my pocket. Then I put it in my pocket while it was on. “Off!” Ok, I turned it off while it was still in my pocket. And back on while it was still in my pocket. Then I let her do it. “Great,” deadpanned Wayfare, “you’ve now taught her that something cool happens when she punches you in the crotch.”

And finally, we were at the park today and for some reason Thanksgiving seems to be bring-your-hamster-to-the-park day around here: there was a group of kids ~8-10 years old with 6 little hamsters in their cage on a picnic table. Blueberry sat transfixed by the hamsters. She was so good: didn’t squeal at them, didn’t bang the cage, just watched as the bigger kids played with them. The kids were great too, they kept showing her their hamsters and telling her what their names were and why they got named that. I’m always impressed at how even-tempered she is when it’s time for us to stop doing something fun (like staring at the hamsters) and move on to something else (like going to visit Grammy or going to bed).

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