She Proves It All The Time

Alexa proves all the time- why she's the last child.  I mean- mostly she's the last child, because that's our plan, but she's also the last because:

1. I'm almost 40 years old. I'm tired. I didn't know infants could be like Alexa.  I didn't know 2 year olds could be like Alexa.  I know now.  I'm too tired to go through that again.  I can't be guaranteed I'd get an easy going infant and a less temperamental two year old.

2. I know colic is real.  Before Alexa- I foolishly thought it was a made up ailment by over dramatic mothers.  Karma showed me how foolish I was.  I got my payback.  No worries.

3. The Terrible Two's were . . . terrible.  It's frightening to consider going through that again.

4.  And most of all:  she's a DARE DEVIL.

Today, she came and showed me a stuffed animal that I had forgotten about.  I thought it was weird that she had it.  I hadn't seen it in years, but . . . who knows, it could have been buried in a drawer. Then this evening she's playing with a little basket that my grandmother had given to me. Suddenly alarms started going off in my head. How did she get that?  The last place I remember seeing that was on the shelves, that are hanging about 10 inches below her ceiling.  What in the world?!  How in the hell did she get that basket?  Then I remembered going in her room a little bit ago, and her Frozen poster was off the wall . . . and wait a minute . . . was that her stool I took off her bed?  Ohhhhh. . . . 

"Uhhh, Alexa, How did you get this basket?"  

She's so nonchalant about it.  "In my room."  

"How did you get it in your room?"

"Off my shelf."  

"How did you get it off your shelf."

She's starting to realize here that this might be a problem, so she starts rolling around, being silly, definitely avoiding the question.  

Ultimately- we ask her to show us how she got the stuff off the shelf.  It turns out- that she's tall enough that if she puts her stool on her bed- she can stand on her tippy toes,and reach the shelf. Earlier today she was outside playing on the playset, standing on a board about 3 feet off the ground, holding onto the rings (which she later told me she wanted to swing on), and jumping off, when she hit the ground with a thud, rolled onto her back and started crying.  When Doug brought her inside, she reported that she fell on her ear (??)  As Doug was bringing her in the house- she tripped and fell. Like the sensitive parents we are, Doug called her crash, and I called her Grace.  The thing is, she's an accident-prone, daredevil.  She has Doug's propensity for injuries, and my grace.  She's a disaster waiting to happen!  I've taken her to Urgent Care more times in her life- then I've taken Andrew (which is . . . exactly, none- so far, not even an urgent phone call wondering whether I should bring him in).  I've taken Alexa twice, and performed the Heimlich Maneuver on her twice, and who knows how many phone calls to the doctor wondering whether she should go in. 

The thing is- I can't have anymore children, because I am working hard to keep my lightening quick reflexes in tip top shape, so that I can keep saving her life.  She's meant for big things.