Queen of the Crib

Ms. Thang is becoming unbearable to live with.

Soon after we got the letter about her "bandanna photo" being inducted into that "baby coffee table book," her adoption agency asked for permission to put her picture on their new brochure. It has totally gone to her head. She can't walk, but she is climbing Mount Ego. The kid can't say her own name, but she insists that I hire an agent and assistant for her as soon as possible.
Unreal.

Also, a side story and a little tip for those who keep kleenex next to the crib:

Don't.

As usual, we put Frankie down for her mid-day camp siesta around 3:00. When I went to get the princess after she awoke from her slumber, I walked into a room that had been transformed into the "White Party" --but P Diddy wasn't there.

Kleenex was everywhere!

Either before, after or during her naptime, Frankie decided to grant independence to almost each and every one of the sheets in the kleenex box. Be free! It was all over the floor in front of the crib, it was free floating on the side, and much of it was covering the crib sheet. Few soft soldiers were still being held captive by the time I got there--almost everyone had been liberated. Being that it was easy to clean and the kleenex had not been used, it was funny...and she looked so proud of herself rocking back and forth in her crib waving kleenex at me. "Look what I did!" I wanted to be proud of her but it's not like what she is did is hard or anything. I mean, how hard it is? You pull and throw. Big whoop. I certainly wasn't mad, but I also wasn't quite sure if praise was in order. We eventually settled for telling her how cute she was and cleaned everything up.

I figure we got off easy.
It could have been the "Brown Party" starring poop instead of kleenex.

That's one party I hope she never invites me to.