conversation with my daughter

The following conversation took place between me and Amy, between 5:20 and 6:05 this morning.

Amy: MUUUM! DAAAD! MUUUM!

Me (scrambling out of bed): Coming!

Amy (crying): Eat! Eat! Eat!

Me: No sweetie, it’s too early. We’ll eat at breakfast time.

Amy (more crying): Eat! Eat! Eat!

Me (soothing voice, trying desperately to remain in a state of semi-consciousness so I can go back to sleep): Let’s have a pee, and then come back to bed.

Amy: Eat! Eat! Eat!

Me (carrying her to the bathroom): Here’s some water, that will help.

Amy: NOOOOO!

Me (now holding her on the toilet): We’re going to pee and then go back to bed. Do you want me to sing?

Amy (calming down a bit): Yes. Hush Baby. Dance. On.

Me: Ok.

Me (after getting her settled in her crib, realizing I’m way past the semi-consciousness I was hoping to stay in): Hush little baby…etc.

Amy (as I turn on her CD player and leave her room): Door. Open. Little bit.

10 minutes later…

Amy (after sneezing twice, in the sweetest voice imaginable): Kleenex, please. Kleenex, please.

Me (after rolling out of bed and getting her a piece of toilet paper because who the hell knows where a kleenex box is): Here you go.

Amy (examining it): Toilet paper?

Me: Yes, it’s toilet paper, but you can use it as kleenex.

Amy: Otay.

Me (leaving her room again): It’s time to sleep, sweetie.

5 minutes later…

Amy: NO KLEENEX! NO KLEENEX!

Silence.

Amy: NO KLEENEX! NO KLEENEX!

Me (walking back into her room): What’s up?

Amy (handing me the balled up piece of toilet paper): No. Want. Kleenex.

Me: Okay, let’s leave it right beside you in case you need it again. (Translation: Couldn’t you just put it down beside you??)

Amy: NOOOO!

Me (leaving room and putting kleenex on her bookshelf): Okay.

10 minutes later…it’s now 6:05

Amy (again, sweetly): Kleenex, please.

Me: Oh. My. God.

Amy: Kleenex, please.

Me (grabbing the kleenex from the bookshelf and giving it to her): Here you go.

Amy: EAT! EAT!

Me (sighing): Okay.

Amy (sweetly, and surprised): Eat? Now?

Me: Yes.

Amy (as I’m getting her out of the crib): Mama play. My room.

Me: No. We’re going downstairs to get breakfast. (Translation: Not on your life. We are not getting up this early because you want to play.)

Comments are closed.