2.75
Ingrid is two and three-quarters. The quarters get carefully noted around here. And Ingrid is definitely showing her age -- still a bit of two left in her, but mostly almost-three. This shows up in both her good and her bad moments. When she's good, she's still occasionally willing to work at anything and everything we suggest, but is more often inquisitive and focused on whatever it is she wants to do. When she's bad, there's a little bit of toddler frustration and general not-paying-attention, but a good deal more of hyper-emotional meltdown and intentional naughtiness.
She's in a Dad phase. Perhaps the first time in her life. I think she's finally getting annoyed that I'm not paying attention to her as much as I did before Heidi was born. She squeals with glee when Dad comes home and if she wakes in the middle of the night she calls for Karl. It's very sweet to see them together.
I had a frightening glimpse of 14-year-old Ingrid. She wants to do her own buckles in the car, and though she's physically capable of doing it now, it takes her for....freaking...ever. A few weeks ago we were late for school and I got tired of telling her to get on with it, so I clicked the buckles myself. She got super pissed. We drove all the way to school and I look in the rear-view mirror and see Ingrid still shooting daggers at the back of my head. It was scary. Woe unto our teenage years.
She is still in love with Heidi and very eager to help with her and make her happy. In the category of "intentional naughtiness," last month we were at the playground after school when another little girl tried to hug Heidi. Ingrid said, "That's MY baby!" and pushed in between her and the baby. I told her not to push. Ingrid locked eye contact with me and shoved the girl to the ground.
We've been discussing whether to request that Ingrid be in Henry's class next year (she officially got a spot at Henry's school in the lottery last month). Some people seem concerned that Ingrid wouldn't be able to get out of her big brother's shadow and have her own space. I think they misunderstand the dynamic. Ingrid wants to be the boss. If they disrupt the class by being together, it would likely be when Ingrid loses her marbles because Henry has failed to do her bidding. I'm already freaking out about sending this tiny, barely-three-year-old off to real school in the fall, but Jackie assures me she's ready.
She has entered the phase of being passionately attached to some random object for two days at a time. Said object -- it's often a book -- MUST be in the bed with her at bedtime. In the last couple of months, the magic object has included her "I" book, various baby dolls, Bruno the stuffed dog, a crown, a Barbie, and the book of the moment.
She's a very chatty and increasingly witty companion. Amusing conversations of late--
Ingrid, drawing pictures: This one is for Heidi, my babe.
Me: That's very nice of you.
Ingrid: This one is Heidi at the point she gets big.
Me: What do you think Heidi will be like when she gets big?
Ingrid: Hmm....maybe a butterfly. Yes.
Ingrid: Mommy, I love you...sometimes.
Karl: You can go wake Henry up.
Ingrid: No, you have to come. He will yell at me.
Sometimes her Missouri heritage peeks out and she develops a southern accent. She says, "I do it mah-say-ulf," and hot food is "too spahhhcy."
When I posed Ingrid for the crown picture last month, she was having a good time hamming it up for the camera, so I snapped away. Every one of the pictures turned out with a classic Ingrid face. So here she is: all the Ingrids at two and three-quarters.
She's in a Dad phase. Perhaps the first time in her life. I think she's finally getting annoyed that I'm not paying attention to her as much as I did before Heidi was born. She squeals with glee when Dad comes home and if she wakes in the middle of the night she calls for Karl. It's very sweet to see them together.
I had a frightening glimpse of 14-year-old Ingrid. She wants to do her own buckles in the car, and though she's physically capable of doing it now, it takes her for....freaking...ever. A few weeks ago we were late for school and I got tired of telling her to get on with it, so I clicked the buckles myself. She got super pissed. We drove all the way to school and I look in the rear-view mirror and see Ingrid still shooting daggers at the back of my head. It was scary. Woe unto our teenage years.
She is still in love with Heidi and very eager to help with her and make her happy. In the category of "intentional naughtiness," last month we were at the playground after school when another little girl tried to hug Heidi. Ingrid said, "That's MY baby!" and pushed in between her and the baby. I told her not to push. Ingrid locked eye contact with me and shoved the girl to the ground.
We've been discussing whether to request that Ingrid be in Henry's class next year (she officially got a spot at Henry's school in the lottery last month). Some people seem concerned that Ingrid wouldn't be able to get out of her big brother's shadow and have her own space. I think they misunderstand the dynamic. Ingrid wants to be the boss. If they disrupt the class by being together, it would likely be when Ingrid loses her marbles because Henry has failed to do her bidding. I'm already freaking out about sending this tiny, barely-three-year-old off to real school in the fall, but Jackie assures me she's ready.
She has entered the phase of being passionately attached to some random object for two days at a time. Said object -- it's often a book -- MUST be in the bed with her at bedtime. In the last couple of months, the magic object has included her "I" book, various baby dolls, Bruno the stuffed dog, a crown, a Barbie, and the book of the moment.
She's a very chatty and increasingly witty companion. Amusing conversations of late--
Ingrid, drawing pictures: This one is for Heidi, my babe.
Me: That's very nice of you.
Ingrid: This one is Heidi at the point she gets big.
Me: What do you think Heidi will be like when she gets big?
Ingrid: Hmm....maybe a butterfly. Yes.
Ingrid: Mommy, I love you...sometimes.
Karl: You can go wake Henry up.
Ingrid: No, you have to come. He will yell at me.
Sometimes her Missouri heritage peeks out and she develops a southern accent. She says, "I do it mah-say-ulf," and hot food is "too spahhhcy."
When I posed Ingrid for the crown picture last month, she was having a good time hamming it up for the camera, so I snapped away. Every one of the pictures turned out with a classic Ingrid face. So here she is: all the Ingrids at two and three-quarters.
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