Sprinkles was down for the night and all the racket I was making while wrestling an errant stalk of celery from the garbage disposal must have woken her up. (Just so you know... Me - 1 Garbage Disposal - 0.) She began to cry. Okay. Normal so far. Hubbs and I gave her a second to fall back asleep, but the crying just got louder... and then it began to take on this... tone. What before had been merely the whine of a startled child became this groaning roar... it was like tires squealing on hot asphalt mixed with sounds that I have only heard coming from an enraged sow. (My Daddy was a pig farmer... don't judge, ya'll.)
We bolt upstairs (certain we would find her battling a rabid wolverine or some other beast because there was NO WAY a human could actually make those noises) to find her writhing around in her crib, beating her pudgy little fists into the mattress with her sweet little mouth set into the hard rictus of her first feral snarl. Ummm... THIS first will NOT be going in her baby book. Hubbs and I could only stand there, shocked, while considering whether or not to draw straws to see who would stick their hand into the tiger cage first. Hubbs lost anyway. (He is so brave.) As he reached in to pull her out, the "growling" only intensified in volume and in ferocity. Nervous sweat broke out on his brow as he attempted to pull her close, foolishly exposing his unprotected neck to her sharp little teeth. But the snuggling only made the flailing worse so we all sat on the floor and I tried to placate her with sippy full of milk. My measly offering of milk only further angered the demon now living in my child and she began to crawl around the room on all fours while periodically throwing her self to the floor, kicking anything within reach, and attempting to skewer Mommy and Daddy with a gaze full of malice and half-sleep. This was one mad 15 month old. Hubbs and I could only sit and stare as the full implications of her behavior sunk in. Wow... Sass really wasn't that bad. Who knew? And, oh sh*t, one day she would be 2.... and then 3. *groan* And then... no... no... don't think about puberty....
She eventually wore herself out enough to be cornered (Does Wal-Mart sell tranquilizer darts?), placed back in her
Yeah... one of these with extra mojo please!