a smack in the face

So the other day, my sister-in-law (who had her first baby, and Annabelle's first cousin, in October) asked me what toys we like for Annabelle as Mr. Tymon has developed some mad hand skills and needs some new things to do.

I had to scratch my head for a few seconds, because although she does like some of her real toys, for the most part, Annabelle's favorite toys are the ones that aren't toys at all. And they're usually hazardous to her health in some way - cords, dirty shoes, wet wipes, pens.

But perhaps her favorite non-toy is her binky leash. (Note to future parents whose children take a liking to the binky - buy one of these.) We customarily have this little doo dad clipped to her onesie. And it's not so much because she's a binky junky (she likes it when she's sleeping or sick) so much as I can't stand it falling on the filthy apartment floor (filthy in that it came that way and then we had a baby who likes to spill everything, filthy). Also, when you all of the sudden need the dang thing, it's always missing, so why not have it around all the time, right?

We have a night time routine - doesn't a baby love a routine? (Or is it her mom.) Customarily, before we change her into her pajamas, we let her run around naked for a while (and when I say run around, I mean crawl backwards {she can't do it forward} and swivel on her bum). We also remove the binky leash from her outfit, and inevitably, she will retrieve it and spend tens of minutes (that's like tens of hours in adult time) whipping it around. And when I say whip, I mean WHIP. She smacks herself in the face, on the legs. She makes marks. But SHE CAN'T STOP. And when we take it away, she gets real mad as though we just took away her Diet Dr Pepper.

In other news, in a budget saving measure, I've stopped buying Diet Dr Pepper by the case.

I can't stop smacking myself in the face.