I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville wife and mother with a passion for family travel, (mostly) healthy cooking, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries with you, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark.
April 20, 2006
They’re talking about the part that involves keeping a toddler entertained for a solid 14 hours a day.
And play time with a two-year-old isn’t exactly stimulating.
“Read books,” Baby says to me 50 times a day. “Mommy, read books.”
I try to oblige. I figure the more I read to her, the faster she’ll learn to read on her own. It’s a win-win situation. But while she once could sit still for only about 15 minutes during reading time, now she’ll listen for as long as I’ll read. One hour, two hours… Okay, I’ve never made it that far. But I have literally read until my voice has given out. And of course it’s the same books over and over again.
Is there such thing as brain atrophy?
Then there are the games. Make believe two-year-old-style is all about the repetition. The game of choice right now is simple. I take a doll and she takes a doll. The dolls hug. The dolls fight. The dolls hide from each other. Cute, right?
Thirty minutes later, it ain’t so cute. I’d even venture to call it annoying.
Today’s variation involved Hand Puppet Elmo and a really ugly baby doll that Baby inexplicably adores. I played the role of Elmo.
ELMO: Elmo wants Ugly Baby Doll! Can Elmo play with Ugly Baby Doll and then hide her where you will never find her so that mommy doesn’t have to look at her again?
ELMO: Oh please?! Please? Okay, Elmo will take Ugly Baby Doll by force!
BABY: No, Elmo! NOOOOOOO!
ELMO: Okay, sorry Baby. Elmo will leave Ugly Baby Doll alone. For now.
ELMO: Just kidding! Elmo will take Ugly Baby Doll off to his Elmo cave and sing Elmo’s World until her head explodes! YAY!!!
BABY: No! NO ELMO! NOOOOOOOO!
And that’s what I am treated to each time I turn down her play time requests. Ear splitting shrieks of indignation. Does your boss do that?
I didn’t think so.