books

I am a co-sleeper.
Goobie still shares our bed, at almost 27 months old. Well…in actuality, she owns that bed. There’ll be no getting her out of it anytime soon, and I’m fine with that.
Last night, she and I stayed awake until almost 11pm [call the mommy police!], her watching the same episode of Curious George over and over and me rereading The Amber Spyglass.

I let her play with the Barnes & Noble gift card I use as a bookmark as I read. We invented games with it like sticking it to our foreheads then shaking from side to side until it fell off and hiding it in the pages of the novel and crumpling all the pages while fighting to find it first.

She told me knock knock jokes in her 1/2 coherent 1/2 baby jabber speech.
“Knah Knah.”
“Who’s there?”
“Sibmeelanns!”[READ: She was attempting to say Silence of the Lambs, imitating a knock knock joke her father told her]

Sometimes she would put her head back and laugh as loud as she could before getting the joke out and I’d laugh hysterically.

We ate Tostitos. She would take one bite of a chip and sneak it back in the bag when I wasn’t paying attention. I figured it out after biting into a particularly soggy one myself and noticing that when I glanced at her, she was never holding the same one twice. She would beg for some of my ‘dohdah’ [READ: soda] and knock her favorite Pablo off of the bed when I’d refuse, only to freak out about his wellbeing a few moments later, scramble down to the floor and kiss him all over his face while saying his name repeatedly in an apologetic tone.

Eventually, I closed the book, turned off the light and put on Benny & Joon. She took her place in the crook of my elbow, Pablo in the crook of her own and, was asleep in minutes.

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