Sometimes I get lazy and just call her "A"

Oh, Ari... that kid of mine. I'm telling you... she is all girl. On Tuesday night, she was the picture of angelic perfection... all giggles and silliness and a ridiculous amount of adorability. The three of us hanging out that evening was like a Hallmark commercial or something. Then last night... I couldn't win with her. No matter what I did, she moaned and whined and cried and carried on dramatically, usually ending with the plea, "I want my Daaaaaaaaaddy." She's got this mood swing thing down pat already... maybe I should just be proud?

Anyway, in the interest of amusing you all and reminding myself that she can indeed be insufferably cute, instead of just insufferable, here are a few Ari anecdotes...

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She's really using her imagination lately. She is constantly telling us there's either a "big giant" (I know she gets that from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse) or a "monster" lurking around, and then she starts some kind of game... either we have to hide, or we have to make food for it, or we have to be really quiet, etc.

A few days ago, she was pretending to be a snake, and walked around saying "Sssss" all afternoon. Last night, she was a duck, and she invented this suspiciously-frog-like hop and jumped around the room like that, yelling an obnoxious "quack-quack." I'm kind of waiting for her to pretend to be... oh, I don't know... something HUMAN.

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Another favorite "game" of hers lately is that she likes to announce that she's going to pick me up. She'll walk up to me and grab me around the knees, and I play along by lifting myself up on tiptoes and pretending to be so impressed with her strength. A part of me feels a little guilty for deceiving her, but then another part of me assumes she knows I'm kidding and is just playing along. If not... well, then it certainly won't be the last time I lie to my kid, right?

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Speaking of her strength, though, she is surprisingly strong for a 2-almost-3-year-old... at least, in my opinion (and it's pretty well-established that I'm a pansy, so...).

Exhibit A: We were playing around the other night, and she decided she wanted to play her own game. We were both standing and she was holding on to my hands. In a take-charge voice, she said, "Now, sit down," pulling down on my hands to help drag me down. I squatted down obediently, waiting to see what part 2 of her game was. As calmly as could be, she said, "And now I push you" and proceeded to throw all her body weight into a forceful shove, football-tackle style. I was barely able to catch myself, and of course I couldn't help laughing, which as everyone knows, is the Gold Stamp of Approval on anything a kid does. She tried to get me to play the game again, and I gave in only to show a friend of mine who was standing nearby and wondering what I was laughing at (she hadn't seen the whole thing). Ari tried a third time to get me to play, but I declined.

Exhibit B: Someone (might have been me, who knows) taught her to play that classic I-got-your-nose game. She plays quite enthusiastically... meaning that she literally grabs and yanks your nose, as though she thinks she's really supposed to remove it. If you're not prepared, it can be a painful shock. Actually, it can be painful either way. And if you say, "Ow!" that only makes her chuckle harder.

On a cuter note, though... One time when she took my nose, I put on my best sad face and said, "But Ari, how am I supposed to give you Eskimo kisses if I don't have a nose?" She considered my words for a moment and gave it back. And the next time we played (which was days later), as soon as I took her nose, she put her hands up, palms up, and innocently said, "Howma s'posed ta give you Eskimo kisses iffa don have a nose?"

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Ari woke up yesterday morning while I was getting ready. She often does that, and I usually ignore her--not to be mean, but I figure maybe if I pretend not to hear her, she'll drift back to sleep and let Tony sleep a little longer. No such luck yesterday, though, and he eventually hauled himself out of bed to go to her. I heard them have a little conversation about her going potty, and I thought I overheard her say, "I want to give Mommy a kiss." When they entered the bathroom, however, I played dumb... I just greeted her with a smile and kept getting ready. A few seconds later, she was hiding herself behind Tony's leg and moaning something in a mumbly voice. He asked her to repeat herself, and she sadly said, "Mommy's not giving me a kiss."

Needless to say, I swooped down on her and barraged her with so many kisses, she's probably sorry she said anything.

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The other night, Ari walked up to me and calmly said, "I need to talk to you."

Amused by her choice of words, I said, "OK... what do you want to talk to me about?"

She proceeded to make a slew of weird squawking sounds, and finished up by barking like a dog. I'm still not sure what that was all about.

Several minutes later, she returned, informing me, "I have a secret to tell you." You could understand, based on our previous "conversation," why I'd be a bit concerned, right? But I leaned toward her and she whispered in my ear, "I love you." When she pulled back, she had the biggest grin on her face.

Naturally, I replied with, "Well, I have a secret to tell you, too" and whispered my own "I love you" in her ear.

Not to be outdone, she cried, "I have another secret!" This time, it was "I love Daddy."

"Well, you should go tell him that, then," I suggested. She eagerly scampered off.

I later asked Tony if he had sent her to me to say "I love you" and he said he didn't. Which made the whole exchange even better.