"You want to balance me on your hip while you make a piece of toast? Whatever."
"You want me to lounge in the bouncy seat for awhile? Hey, could you just make sure that plastic parrot dangles right in front of my face? Cool, man."
"Holy crap, I burped breast milk all down my onesie. Yo! A little help over here. Wow, I just discovered my hands. Dude..."
Lyla recently threw this zen mindset into the road and skidded over it on a Harley. She has discovered that it is possible to have passionate views about every activity in her life. There is no middle ground and no ambivalence; something is either wonderfully fun and deserving of her undivided attention, or something is totally unacceptable and worthy of her rage.
For instance, take waffles.
Lyla has always had a friendly attitude about the organic mini-waffles in our freezer. "Wa-fa!" Translation: "I don't not like them, so okay!" We put a little cream cheese on them, put some fruit and/or vegetables on the side, and it's an easy dinner. Or as Lyla used to say, "It is what it is, Father, and I am thankful."
Tonight all she wanted to do was suck the cream cheese off the waffle and double-dip. "Please eat your waffle, Lyla." Big mistake. You don't say that to a little girl who has just decided to devote the rest of her life to the acquisition of cream cheese.
With apologies to MTV, this is what happens when babies stop being polite and start getting real.
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