My co-chef & baby sommelier
Isla likes her kitchen, but she loves the real kitchen. Once she realized my refrigerator contained ingredients to make baked good and hers just had plastic croissants, there was no competition. She asks on a daily basis to make muffins and generally does a good job stirring and "helping," but every time I turn around, she sticks all her fingers into the batter and then yells that she got all dirty and freaks out until I give her a paper towel. (I think this is actually a genetic behavior she shares with my Dad...one should always have a damp paper towel handy!)
Like a true Australian, she also helps with wine selection and pick up. I order almost all our wine from Qantas Airlines. Our house is not ideal for deliveries, so I select our local pharmacy as my pick up location. The last time I went into the pharmacy with Isla and told them I had a delivery to pick up, they checked my license and then said, "Wait, do you need help with this?" I jokingly replied, "Nah, don't worry, I do this all the time." Then I propped Isla high up on one hip and grabbed the case of wine on my other hip and walked out. As we turned to leave, Isla giggled and yelled "Mama, wine!" The woman did not think this was funny at all and just stood there with her mouth open. (She must have thought I was a really super mother when I came back in 2 minutes later to carry the second case out).
Daddy naked!
In recent weeks, Isla has developed some passionate feelings regarding her clothing, and much to my surprise, VERY passionate feelings about Nate's and my clothing. Specifically, she seems to believe it is of the utmost importance that we all be wearing clothing with animals on them at all times. As the evening draws near, she asks me where "Daddy's kiwi shirt" is (a shirt from NZ with the kiwi bird on the front) and brings it to the door to get it ready for Nate's arrival home from work. Nate typically bikes home and he doesn't even get up the stairs into the house before he is berated with:
"Dad! Take off the bike shoes...helmet off...this shirt's ALL DIRTY! Take off the work glasses, wear the kiwi shirt, Daddy naked! No work daddy!" And that continues for the next 5-10 minutes. With the amount of excitement and vigor she has yelling all of this, I'm not sure if this entire process is more exhausting for Nate who can't seem to change quick enough, or for Isla who seems like she's going to have a baby coronary from the stress of it all.
This may shock you, but I actually don't own many clothes with animals on them (I know, I know, please be sure to get me that piglet character t-shirt for Christmas this year!) but I do have one pair of sweatpants with a bear on them, so this is my requested outfit every day. Isla assures me I can wear the bear pants no matter what the plan for the day is - swimming, running, grocery shopping, you name it. (Truthfully, I don't know why I never thought of this as a justification for my wardrobe for the past few years: "Yes, well you know, I just HAD to wear these sweatpants again today...whatever it takes to keep my child happy!")
The kid also has an unhealthy affinity for my hair ties. I say "unhealthy" only because I worry they will actually cut off her circulation one day as she wears them on her baby biceps and her thighs. She often goes to sleep at night wearing 10-15 of them all over her body and after she falls asleep, I gently peel all of them off her, hoping I didn't miss any.
Lady Gaga
I couldn't write this update without including perhaps one of the most inappropriate and funniest things Isla does. About 6 months ago, as she was learning body parts, we went through her whole body, naming parts. Her pronunciation in general was still very much developing so she called her vagina her "gaga." Okay, good enough, right? Then a friend of mine heard Isla call it that while I was changing her and she cracked up saying, "oh my gosh, that's too funny! It's like her 'lady gaga.'" I laughed and I guess Isla picked up on this phrase because her official name for that body part remains "Lady Gaga." Pretty fitting, really.
Every day is a good day for the airport lounge
While Isla is definitely into lots of typical 2 year old things like baby dolls, stuffed animals, coloring, etc., she has also been exposed heavily to many of Nate's and my favorite things. She invented a game she calls "Ironman" where she puts our headphones around her neck, puts the hair ties on her ankles (I think to simulate the band I wear around my knee for an IT band injury), and then runs around the house in circles alternating yelling "Ironman" and cheering/clapping for herself. It seems like a healthy enough game, so we take part in it regularly. (In fact, I think Nate's using the laps around the house as part of his training for his real Ironman in May.)
The other game she plays is "airport lounge." Given that we know we have a limited time in this country, we try to explore it as much as possible and take advantage while we can. This, coupled with the frequent visitors we've had, has meant lots of trips to the airport. Nate flies a lot for work, so we usually are able to hit up the Qantas lounge before/after a flight for some snacks. I'm not sure whether to be embarrassed or proud, but Isla regularly tells me we are going to play "airport lounge" at the house. This generally entails packing her suitcase (a blue backpack on wheels with elephants and flowers on it), then yelling that we are going to the airport and running into the living room to "look for some croissants and a babychino."
In short, she's nuts and we love it. I can't imagine what other challenging and inappropriate things are headed our way in the next year!
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