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Thursday, August 21, 2008


I had a realization, more of like a Universal bitch slap, today. My life isn't chaotic in the broad sense of the word. In fact, it is pretty "normal". But under a microscope, one part of my life has gone to the Street. Sesame Street that is.

My daughter learned to walk, is trying to talk and runs the house like a mob boss. She knows what she wants, when she wants it and how it should be delivered to her.

I took her to Payless today, I figured that she shouldn't be running around with dirty feet like some homeless baby since she can walk now. She picked out the shoes she wanted, sat down for me to put them on, then did her runway walk around the store to make sure they were to her total liking.

This is not the first instance of Princess-like behavior she has started to exhibit. She has developed an extreme fascination with books, singing and dancing. When she wants to be read to, she will bring a book and slam it down as to signify it is time to read. God forbid you refuse or say "hold on".

The singing craze is a direct result of me taking her to playgroup. They sing the usual "head, shoulders, knees and toes", "if you're happy and you know it", "itsy, bitsy spider" and "wheels on the bus". It's cute and funny to watch her dance and clap along. Last night I made the fatal error of singing to her before bed. Thirty minutes later, when my throat was raw and my voice was fading, I decided to stop. Mistake. She's on the floor screaming and waving her arms in protest.

Dancing. She got that from Ellen. It's cute, harmless and I can just put on the tunes and let her go to town.

(She got my rhythm, thank God. I love my husband, but he is lacking in the rhythm department.)

The final dose of reality came today when I had to go to Kmart after playgroup to see if I could find a CD with all these songs on it so I didn't have to sing my life away.

On the way home, windows down, wind in our hair and "Oh my darling Clementine" blasting on the radio.

"Welcome to club Aislyn", I thought. "Welcome to the club."

Pictured above: The chosen shoes.

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