The Double-Edged Sword

For months and months, Kathy and I eagerly awaited the time when Riley and Leah could communicate their needs and wishes. The whole trial and error parenting of trying to figure out whether your infant daughters are hungry or thirsty or sleepy or poopy or bored or overstimulated or sick or annoyed at daddy gets kinda old after awhile, and you fantasize about that wonderful time when your daughters will be able to look you in the eye and say "daddy, you're annoying".

Well, over Thanksgiving week, Leah and Riley made some sudden leaps and bounds with their communication skills, and while it's wonderful and all to see their little personalities developing, part of me wishes that their little personalities were, I dunno, maybe a little less stubborn?

We spent the holiday weekend at my parents' house. Upon our arrival at my parents house, Riley decided that she was completely obsessed by the little decorative Japanese figurines that my parents have scattered around their house. So obsessed that Riley basically showed no interest in her toys or books for the entire weekend. All that she was interested in was having her daddy or auntie or uncle shuttle her back and forth between the six or seven Japanese figurines in the house:

"Dah!" Riley would command, pointing her finger across the room at the nearest figurine.

"Doll! Very good, Riley!" I would say encouragingly, lifting her up and carrying her over so that she could see the figurine.

Riley would gaze admiringly at the doll for about 1.5 seconds, then she would turn and point up the stairs at the figurine located near the top of the stairs.

"Dah!"

"Okay," I would say, "let's go look at that other doll," and then I carried her up the stairs so she could see that figurine.

Again, Riley would gaze at that doll for 1.5 seconds, then would point and turn back down at the first figurine at the bottom of the stairs.

"Dah!"

"Um, okay, let's go at that doll again," I would say.

And repeat. And repeat. And... repeat. The only thing that would break the cycle was (a) auntie or uncle stepping in to rescue daddy, (b) a trip to the nearest playground, or (c) food. If daddy tried to prematurely break the cycle by ignoring Riley's calls for "dah", the dahs would get louder and more insistent and screechier until either they could not be ignored any longer or they started upsetting her sister. At which point, the tour of the Japanese figurines would resume. On the good side, it was an excellent low-impact cardio workout for daddy to burn off all the pie he ate during the week. Mmm. Pie.

This same week, Leah decided that she liked to have mommy read the same book read to her over and over. Specifically, the timeless classic "Moo, Baa, La La La". Kathy would read the book to her, and then Leah would take it back, flip through the pages for a few seconds, then hand it back to her mommy. Then she would exclaim "Gbdlegok!" and look up at her expectantly until Kathy started reading again. This would happen about five or six times, with Kathy reading the book each time slightly faster and with less intonation and interest than the previous time. By the sixth time, she sounded like that guy who reads the disclaimers at the end of pharmaceutical commercials. After the sixth time, she would usually hand the book off to me. Now I love me some "Moo, Baa, La La La" as much as the next guy, but after about four readings, you start losing your sanity a little bit. It's almost enough to make you want to go stare at some Japanese figurines for a half hour.

Oh well. Sanity's overrated anyway.

Now, a couple typical scenes from the week, featuring Uncle and Auntie: