Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Take a Deep Breath, Count to 10, and Eat a Raspberry Danish

That's what I kept telling myself yesterday morning when I needed an extra dose of patience. The deep breaths and counting were supposed to keep me calm until my company arrived and we could dig into that raspberry cream cheese danish ring that was staring up at me from my standard-height countertop. I knew that would take away all my frustrations with Loic, who was being...well...very 2. While he can be extremely loving, affectionate, caring and downright funny, there are plenty of moments throughout the week when he tests my patience time and time again with his defiance and thirst for independence. Most people don't believe me, because he tends to be rather angelic when we're in the presence of others (we're talking scale the bookshelves, jump from the back of the sofa, have-no-fear angelic, but angelic non-the-less). Yesterday was one of those moments. He was finally calm at one point and involved in some important building block project in the living room, so I retreated to the bathroom for 1.2 minutes to comb my hair. Imagine my surprise when I returned to the kitchen to find the danish gone! Completely gone. Loic? No, he's still building. I rush to the other side of the counter and there she is. Eimer the lunatic d-dog, licking her chops. Not a crumb of the danish (that was bigger than her head, by the way) in sight. Great. Company arriving in 10 minutes and all I have left are the mini blueberry muffins, which she apparently turned her nose up at, and which I do not really care for. Clearly I need to raise the countertops. Thankfully my friends brought snacks, and I was able to rummage thru the cabinet & fridge and find some other stuff -- can't even recall now what the "stuff" was, since it came nowhere close in comparison to the scrumptious-looking danish. Not to worry, no one went hungry. Certainly not the dog! And not only did she deny me of my danish, but she didn't even get bloated. Nope, I could still see every one of her ribs. She can take her high metabolism and...oh, never mind. I'll forgive her -- she managed to make me forget my frustrations with that loving, affectionate, caring and downright funny, 2-year-old living in my house -- without even having to worry about calories.

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