Oh, yes, there is and she lives in my house.
A bit of background: We have a cocoon in one of the trees in our yard, so we've been watching it and talking about the caterpillars that live in it and how they turn into butterflies, etc. We've also been making preparations for Baby Boy's arrival, including the cleaning out of the ball pit - I mean baby bed - last weekend. EGR was jumping in it Saturday, sans balls, and having a chat with Daddy about the fact that Baby Boy would be able to sleep in there and that she slept in there when she was a tiny baby. Then I overheard this bit.
Daddy: What are you now? (I assume he was expecting " 'ittle girl" as the answer; I was.)
EGR: A caterpillar.
Daddy: You are a caterpillar?
EGR: Yes, and I have two baby boys in my tummy.
Daddy: You do? When are you going to turn into a butterfly?
EGR: Four minutes.
She has also informed me, after a first but unsuccessful attempt to spend the night with Grandma and Pop last weekend, that Grandmother will bring her cot to the hospital when Baby Boy is born so we can sleep "all-gether." She's a bit nervous about the staying away from me part of this Baby Boy deal. I can't blame her; I'm nervous about it, too. She has spent one night away, and it was a quite a while ago. I was shocked when she asked to stay with Grandma and Pop the other night, but willing to give it a try. It was an hour later, after she announced that she was ready for bed, that I got the call from Grandma. Once she does make that leap, I'm afraid I might have the opposite problem - she won't want to stay home. Good grief, I will miss her while I'm in the hospital those few days. She spent several hours with Grandmother after church Sunday so I could get some much-needed down time, and Dave and I both were antsy to see her by the time she came home.
The latest thing she does that baffles me, aside from the fact that she's growing twin boys in her tummy, is wake up from a deep, peaceful sleep in a full meltdown. Over what, you ask? Her cup. She goes from sleep to full trantrum over what kind of cup she is going to drink out of that day. Is she dreaming about cups? I don't know, but I know that I can't talk to her, I can't touch her, and she thrashes and throws herself about with giant tears dripping from her face until I realize in my own early morning fog, "Oh, yeah, she needs to pick out her cup." Once the cup is selected and freshly filled with milk, all is right in the world. This has happened three times in the last week. I can't pretend to understand it. It's one of those things that my friends with similar aged kids and I explain like this: Because she's two.
The world of a two year old is an interesting place. She is desperately torn between being her own independent person and doing everything herself in a world where she has very little control, and being the little baby she used to be. In rapid succession, she goes from climbing into the booster seat, strapping herself in, eating with a fork and wiping her own hands and face to needing to sit in my lap while I feed her. I know that a lot of this is about growing up and establishing her autonomy and the rest of it is about her uncertainty of her place when there is a new baby in the house. I'm just trying to be flexible and keep up. The comment I keep hearing lately is that she's too young to understand about the new baby; I'm here to tell you, she does. She doesn't understand the full scope of the change in her life, but she knows it's coming, she knows it will be big, and she knows it's because of Baby Boy. I've been very careful not to use Baby Boy as a reason for why I can't do some things the way I could before, but she's made the connection on numerous occasions.
She is so ready to meet him. We talk almost daily now about going to the hospital for him to be born. We read books about new babies, and we study the hospital pictures from her birth. We've talked about everything from the umbilical cord to the IV in my hand to the way she nursed when she was just born. I'm grateful now that she's had her own hospital experience so it will (hopefully) be less intimidating for her to see me in the hospital. She seems to be preparing herself as much as I am preparing her.
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