Tiny Grand Girl is spending the night.
This means pureed pumpkin and bananas and bottles and burp rags.
This means story time and playtime and, in the middle of it all, two Category Five Diaper events requiring two full baths.
Two.
This means this blog will be short.
“Muses never have to go through this.” Little Miss Muse hovers over my shoulder and shakes her head as I get the baby cleaned up. “We arrive fully functional.”
“That’d be nice.” I dry the baby off.
Little Miss looks at me sideways as I wrestle the clean diaper on the wiggling child. The baby escapes the hold twice and I nearly diaper her head. “You are not yet fully functional as an adult.”
“Thanks.” I scoop the baby up as I think back to an exchange with my Couch Lady, who told me pretty much the same thing during therapy a couple of weeks ago.
Everyone’s a critic.
Tiny Grand Girl fusses for a bottle.
“Will the neediness never cease?” Little Miss asks in part wonder and part whine as she stretches out on the counter, her tutu over her head, and throws her chonky arm up across her eyes like the diva she is.
“You’re one to talk about functioning. Or neediness.” I make the bottle, and Tiny Grand Girl grabs it before we even get settled on the couch.
Little Miss follows. “This reminds me of how I must care for you during our writing sessions.”
“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me how.”
“I gotta blend it all up for you. Spoon-feed you. Then there’s the snacks and incessant thirst—”
“Hey, I don’t think—”
“I give you a perfectly great storyline, and you make a mess of things. Blow it up, even.”
I glare at her over the now-snoozing baby. Little Miss knows I’m stuck and can’t do a thing about her snarky jabs.
“Then we gotta clean it up. Sometimes twice.”
