Personality traits

Nebbish \NEB-ish\, noun:

A weak-willed, timid, or ineffectual person.
 
It seems as though lately, The Bug has given us (and by us, I mean ME) a run for our money. She screams, she throws things, she yells, she has mondo temper tantrums, she says, "NO!" and she is always on the go, go, go. In essence, she is the complete opposite of the above word, nebbish. Which I suppose is normal for a toddler. But not my toddlers. Hunter and Corrine were so much easier, it seems. Or maybe my memories of their toddler years are faded. I just don't remember either one of them having the energy or the independence that she has. It's seriously crazy time here most days, and it's all I can do to keep from hiding in my closet - from her - all afternoon.

Now, having said that, she is still super sweet and when her Daddy comes home, she is an angel with a capital A.

Last week, I was - ahem - in my bathroom, and I heard a loud bang. I thought it was the door to our bookcase being slammed shut. I've heard that same sound on many occasions, mostly when it involves Laynee stuffing the cat inside. The sound registered, but not until I heard the stomp, stomp, stomp, of Laynee's feet running my way, did I think anything was amiss. Sure enough, she says, "Mom. Olive do it. She brake your flowers." Which when translated meant, "Mother, Olive was climbing up on top of the bookcase, and she tried to climb inside your vase, as she has on many other occasions, and in the process, she knocked it over and it fell, broken in two."

Sure enough, there was my vase, stuffed full of artificial flowers, laying on the floor in two pieces. Dang cat. She spent the rest of the day in her room for that one.

Olive did. Not Laynee.

Now, if you have little ones, or have had little ones, you know that sometimes you have to be creative at bedtime. (Or is it just us?) It was that way the day the vase broke. Laynee didn't want to go to bed, so I told her that she could find a different place to lay down, but only if she went to sleep. She chose her spot, and laid right down. I didn't think it would last, but not 5 minutes later, I went in to check on her, and lo and behold, she was already unconscious. The following pictures are of her chosen place of slumber.

Notice my broken clay vase in the lower left hand corner.

Softest spot in the house, by far. Although she looked quite comfy, I didn't dare leave her there all night for fear she would suffocate from all the softness surrounding her. Go ahead and ask me if she noticed that I had moved her when she woke up the next morning. Go ahead. Ask.

Yes. She did. And I've not heard the end of it.