Judgement Day

Call me Mother of the Year.

The big news of the day is that Tula is WALKING. Yes. Two steps and then deciding she's done with this whole moving slowly nonsense and sprint-crawling. Her favorite targets are the source of some amusement and time in toddler jail. She's convinced that she needs to be on her toddler way. I'm convinced she needs to listen to her all-knowing mommy. I'll let you be the judge. Oh, and I'm not above bribery. Just saying.

CASE 1: Tula has a fascination for all things electronic. Specifically, things electronic on my desk. I spend a good deal of my working time pulling her away from various electrical cords, my phone, and the mouse of my laptop. She spends most of her time whining at me or merely hauling toddler butt back to my desk for repeat attempts. MY DEFENSE: Girlfriend should not play with electronics as she's chewing on cords and could hurt herself or my expensive toys. HER DEFENSE: I'm cute, and I want it.

CASE 2: Once again, Doggy Luke is finding himself a source of fascination from the baby in the family. Dog's up for sainthood, but that's another story. Last night, as Tula was taking her first steps, it wasn't Boomer or me who was her target. No, it was the poor, put-upon mutt as he lay innocently in his dog bed. As you may have guessed, Tula walked to the dog bed, climbed in, sat right next to the dog and started smacking him on the head. Attempts to distract and move on were unsuccessful. MY DEFENSE: Hasn't this poor animal been through enough? Leave him alone. Particularly when he's in his sanctuary. HER DEFENSE: I'm cute, and I want it.

I'd go through an exhaustive closing argument, but she's yanking clean laundry off my bed. I'm thinking she needs to leave it alone so I can fold it already. She's thinking she's cute and she wants it. Who's right?

Call me Mother of the Year.