mom tries

Since bipolar disorder is not unknown in my family, I'm always wigged when my toddler has a day of rapid cycling from hypercheerful hugs-and-kisses mode to whiny, wailing stubborn bitchiness. You know, average 3-year-old behavior when naptime didn't happen or you had to REFUSE THEM something.

At times like these, she is a tiny version of the sullen teen who will one day reside with us. The transformation is so acute we've given her a new name. We say, "Oh, no, it's Grumpona, the girl who lives under the stairs! Where is our little girl? Bring her back, Grumpona! We miss her!"

The petite crab does not find this amusing. We get the teary-eyed cold stare, and lately a big "harrrummphh!" Even better, the imperious finger-wagging. She holds up her little index findger and slowly moves it from side to side. It cracks us up every time how seriously and methodically she moves that finger. I guess you have to be there.