I Am That Moron

My daughter loves things that crinkle.  At the doctor's office she tears through yards of the paper they cover up the examination table with.  She would happily stay there, and even possibly be willing to get more shots, if she could just tear through some more of their paper.

If I've got something that crinkles, I'll give it to her.  An envelope, some wax paper, a grocery bag, anything.

Then I remembered... all those years of reading the printed warnings on all shapes and sizes of bags, "This is not a toy."  I remember scoffing at the dumb parents who would give a child a bag to play with.  I remember thinking, "why would a child want a bag in the first place?"  Now I know.

Now, not only do I understand why the child would want a bag, because, "Ooo! Crinkle!"  I also understand why a parent would give a child a bag, because, "here, play with this Subway bag for five minutes while I eat this sandwich quickly."

So yes, I am that moron who would give her child a bag.  A choking hazard, instrument of death bag so that she could have a chance to eat lunch.  I am living proof of the title of this blog.

The Big Boy Update:  Another baby toy.  I saw my father this morning.  We talked about another childhood toy, the Nokout Block.  You hammer pegs into the top and they travel through the wooden digestive tract of the toy and come out the side.  My father said he'd make me some replacement pegs for mine so my son could play with it and have it function.  I brought it downstairs from the attic and he knew just what to do with the pegs and hammer.  The best part was how he liked to lick the pegs before putting them. "down the chute." 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  I'm coming to get you.  Wait, where did you go?  In the last three days she's really learned how to use the scoot about with remarkable agility.  Three days ago she didn't know she could deliberately move it.  Now, she will chase you around the house, albeit slowly.   Her view on the world has changed.  She found herself in the oven glass and looked at her reflection for a good while between trying to find us.