As you know, WCK is addicted to her pacifier (or as she calls it, "Blue Fire"). We try to be very strict about keeping it in the crib and only letting her have it at naptime and bedtime. One of her favorite activities, though, is trying to smuggle Blue Fire out of the crib and, when she is successful, running down the hall with it in her mouth, cackling about the evil deed that she's managed to pull off. Of course, her evil cackle is a little muffled by the pacifier.
The other day, I saw her about to pull off a Blue Fire Smuggle, so I grabbed it and put it on top of the changing table, out of her reach. I then stepped out of the room for a second to check the laundry. When I came back in, WCK was looking at me with big, innocent eyes. "Poopy diaper," she said casually -- almost a little too casually -- and then sauntered over to the changing table, waiting for me to lift her up. I almost fell for it for about two seconds, and then it dawned on me -- WCK never wants to go up on the changing table, no matter how poopy she is, and her diaper wasn't poopy at all! She just wanted a free ride to the top of the changing table so she could have better access to the Forbidden Blue Fire. Con artist!
Jay says she's going to grow up to be a Monorail salesperson:
Well, sir, there's nothing on earth like a genuine, bona fide, electrified, six-car poopy diaper! What'd I say? Poopy diaper!
Yesterday, Jay had his company picnic at the Kansas City zoo. We got free admission to the zoo all day, and then a free lunch. It was a really fun idea, but it was so hot (Missouri in July = Gates of Hell) that it got pretty miserable after a while. I was on sterioids, so I was already sweaty as it was. WCK typically loves the zoo, but yesterday her reaction to every single animal was a flat, bored-sounding, "No. Don't like it." Nothing could impress her. If the con artist thing doesn't work out, I think she's going to be a movie critic:
As for a potty update: She has not yet repeated the peeing feat, although once when I asked her if she wanted to go pee, she sat on the potty and cheerfully yelled, "Peeeeeeeeeeee! Peeeeeeeeee!"
I realized that much of this blog entry is about poop and pee. Get used to it, people!
Oh, I'm up to page 405 of Harry Potter.