16th
Oh I’ve got your Elmo right here, bud.
Have you ever seen a 1 and 1/2 year old carry around a laptop and cry Elmo at the top of his lungs?
Because I have.
This morning, at 6:30, Katherine dropped off the bundle of joy that is James in my room—along with a laptop playing continuous loops of Elmo skits. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you ask), the laptop died about 15 minutes later. That’s when all hell broke loose.
James stood up in my bed and screamed and screamed and screamed. I knew things were serious when even the lullabies didn’t quiet him down. (They always work for at least a moment.) I tried all of my tricks: I sang to him; rubbed his back; even held him down, but there is no soothing a baby distraught over no Elmo and no Mommy.
Is it terrible that I find a crying baby sort of adorable?
Anyway, James wimpered out of the bed and began picking up the laptop. He’d carry it about a foot, then drop it at his feet, then repeat. “Elllllllllmooo! Ellllllmoooo!!!”
I had an idea. I switched on the light, scooped him up, and proceeded down to his crib where I knew a stuffed-Elmo would be waiting. Well wouldn’t you know it—immediately the crying stopped. I guess stuffed Elmo is just as good as the animated one? A few seconds later he ditched Elmo in favor of Monkey, and all was well in baby-land. Me, James, and Monkey clopped back upstairs, turned off the lights, and had some lie down time.
I understand the comfort of a favorite stuffed animal. After all, when James tried to pull Tug away from me, I yanked him back.
The bliss that is a resting toddler lasted for about 15 minutes. Now, as usual, James is going through all my things and scattering them across the floor. No object is immune to baby’s crusade—even the ones I just organized yesterday.
