It started with an Everest-sized tantrum from darling Em. Despite my prodding, pleas and hugs, she refused to give me any indication as to the cause of her meltdown and refused to leave our bedroom. Rather than try to bribe her into submission, I left her alone to work it out -- or cry it out, as the case may be.
A minute after she quieted down, I went to check on her. Our little gal tuckered herself out with her tantrum!
Why, yes, she DOES have her hand tucked inside a plastic jar. She loves that damn jar, and apparently it soothed her during the meltdown.
After an hour of napping like that on our floor, she awoke as a brand new toddler.
Then it turned into one of those days where we were "ladies who lunched," nibbling on grilled cheese. When we ran out of fries, Em decided to eat the ketchup straight up. My giggles turned into her giggles, which lead to more giggles from me.
It was one of those days where we wore silly hats.
We molded Play-Doh into pumpkins and balloons. We scribbled with crayons on the nearest papers we could find. We pretended we were aboard a train, where the toddler in the car behind me admonished me for daring to look back at her. "Mommy, tur' 'round!"
I gave her braided pigtails for the first time, and she, in turn, gathered my locks and nodded in admiration of her own toddler hairdressing skills.
We danced to The Wiggles (thanks, Netflix via Xbox), and Em squealed when we spotted a Santa hat on a mannequin. "It's Christmas!"
We shook our booties to Christmas music in our living room, and we admired our ornaments.
It started out as one of those days, and then ended as one of those days. I much prefer the latter.
"Children's talent to endure stems from their ignorance of alternatives." - Maya Angelou