The lil' dude is off at Camp Grandma this week. So, quiet is the word of the week. I'll remember from now on telling a toddler about an impending bout of fun should not be done more than 30 minutes in advance of said event. A solid week of waking the lil' dude up resulted in her asking if she could go to Papa's house TO-DAY and screwing her tiny face into a pout when I told her no, not yet. Life in 30-minute increments = toddlerspeak.
I'll also be reminded packing for a two year old isn't any easier than it was when she was six months old as I mistakenly thought. I packed 10 outfits, 25 pairs of Princess undies, six pairs of pj's, and three pairs of shoes. Done. I remember the baby food, bottled water, Pack 'n' Play, stroller, infant seat, bumbo, bouncy seat, playmat, bathtub, pacifiers ... etc. that first summer at Camp Grandma. Oh the crap! This summer? One bag! Until I asked her (my mistake: never ask) what she needed to take with. Her answer made me flash-forward to her at 13 and ... wow, is she her Mama's daughter.
Ummm ... I need my NaNa with, Monkey, Glo-Worm ... my puppies and leashes ... Toy Story Band-Aids ... Toy Story guys ... bags for my Buzz and Woody ... Ummm ...
At her miniature command, I shoved everything into the trunk and told my Dad, good luck! See you Friday! and away the three of them went to untold stories and adventures, off into the sunset of Sunday night.
Oh, the quiet.
And lack of her stuffed community of pals!