There was a little girl who had a little curl....

There's something so terrifying about having a child who is so young and yet so keenly aware of what she wants and how to get it. I'm not sure if this is a predominantly female trait, but I know Brody was NEVER this self-aware (and certainly not by 6 months!). In fact, I'm pretty sure we spent the first 6 months of Brody's life holding a flashlight to his head to make sure there was something going on behind that wide-eyed look of perpetual confusion.

Taryn is the exact physical manifestation of that nursery rhyme about the little girl with the little curl..."when she is good, she is very, very good...when she is bad, she is HORRID!" 99.9% of the time, Taryn could charm a snake right out of it's basket with her big, blue eyes and coy little side-smile. Lately she has taken to babbling non-stop (usually when she is supposed to be asleep in her crib) with the occasional screech that will send you outside expecting to break up an alley-cat fight...all this to ensure that she maintains a captive audience AT ALL TIMES!

I, of course, find this to be adorable 99.9% of the time. However, that 0.1% falls without fail during those precious moments of sleep...moments that Taryn just doesn't have the time or patience to enjoy. In that 0.1%, her big, blue eyes squint in determination and her coy little side-smile straightens out into a defiant grin (reminiscent of a certain cheshire cat). This baby is ready to tangle and she has no intention of giving in until she gets her way.

It's 3 am and the alley-cats start fighting only to be promptly plugged with a pacifier...3:15 the screeches turn to low, determined growls and yowls, yet again plugged with a pacifier...3:20 now we've turned to reverse psychology, lots of "I'm not angry, just pleasant and happy" coos and squeals "don't you want to pick me up and play?"...3:21 a penetrating look of hurt and despair as her adorableness is so rudely silenced by her pacifier...3:25 things are getting ugly, we've begun the warning squawks and tearless cries that signal the beginning of hell's fury, one more plug of the pacifier and...3:28 brow-sweating, face-reddening rage, eyes are open and locked on my every movement, willing me to give up...3:30 luckily she's still small and her rage wears her out quickly, another plug of the pacifier calms her enough to begin the cycle again, eventually, she believes, victory will be hers...4:30...yes...4:30 we've been through 3-4 cycles of war and to the victor goes the spoils...she has lost yet another battle, but true to her German genes, she hasn't given up the war!

99.9% of the next day flies by and before you know it we are back in that 0.1%. The scary thing is that this is NOTHING compared to the battles I have ahead of me....sigh!!