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conuly
Sorta. She's still a heck of a lot more easygoing than her sister is, was, or most likely ever will be, and she's better at doing things herself, doesn't get frustrated as easily.
So, like, if she wants to get a straw from the drawer (like her sister), she'll yell "I do self!" and run to get a chair. Or she sometimes attempts to put on her own diaper, that sort of thing.
As for arguing - let's just say she's a cranky girl at times and will argue about whether the sun is up. Like yesterday, missing her nap, she pooed in her pants. And she's whining at me as I wipe her up, because god forbid I prevent her clothing from ending up covered in shit, right? That's just torture. Which I said, but nicer, explaining that as soon as the poo-poo was mostly gone, she could put her feet down, but right now I didn't want her to, because poo-poo is icky.
Well, she made her little imitation of a death glare at me, which is a lot more funny than scary, and told me firmly that "Poo-poo NOT icky." When asked what it was if not icky, I found out that apparently the answer is "Nass. Poo-poo is NASS, Connie!"
Nice? Really? From the same girl who freaks out at the idea that somebody might possibly got putt-putt (fart) in her hammock? There's a child who's making arguments just for the sake of being a pain.
Well, she was tired. And sickish.
So, like, if she wants to get a straw from the drawer (like her sister), she'll yell "I do self!" and run to get a chair. Or she sometimes attempts to put on her own diaper, that sort of thing.
As for arguing - let's just say she's a cranky girl at times and will argue about whether the sun is up. Like yesterday, missing her nap, she pooed in her pants. And she's whining at me as I wipe her up, because god forbid I prevent her clothing from ending up covered in shit, right? That's just torture. Which I said, but nicer, explaining that as soon as the poo-poo was mostly gone, she could put her feet down, but right now I didn't want her to, because poo-poo is icky.
Well, she made her little imitation of a death glare at me, which is a lot more funny than scary, and told me firmly that "Poo-poo NOT icky." When asked what it was if not icky, I found out that apparently the answer is "Nass. Poo-poo is NASS, Connie!"
Nice? Really? From the same girl who freaks out at the idea that somebody might possibly got putt-putt (fart) in her hammock? There's a child who's making arguments just for the sake of being a pain.
Well, she was tired. And sickish.
