Charades

I never really played charades when I was growing up. I'd see them played on television and I knew the gist of the game, but we never played at home. But now, oh boy! Every day is a new opportunity to play charades. And not just charades! No way. I get to play Baby Charades.

Babygirl is a pretty agreeable baby, as long as you do things her way, of course. She says a few key words, but more importantly, she nods. She's been nodding for months now and mostly her nods mean "yes." If she means "no", she just looks at you blankly like you need a new brain or a translator or at least electric shock therapy. Then, the charades begin.

She leans in a runner's stance, rocking towards her target. "You need something?" She nods. Then she points. I say, "You want to go into the kitchen?" Big emphatic nod. "Okay," I say. "Let's go." Then, she gestures towards the refrigerator. "Oh," I say, "You want cheese?" "Chhhzzzz," she says and nods. "All right," I say, "Here you go!"

She points, she leans, she grunts, she squeals, she nods, and occasionally, she'll turn her head away or just fling herself to the ground to kick and holler. I'm a little scared that I can just look at her and know she's thinking "I need a drink of water, you idiot." My husband cannot do that. Understand, I mean. He certainly can think "I need a drink of water, you idiot" but he does not have the ability to send or receive telepathic messages. It's something that seems to come standard with the uterus.

About a month ago, we had six inches of snow. This was Babygirl's first experience in the snow. Here is the way she said, "Mom, I hate snow. Get me out of this stuff now. Snow is bad!"