So I'm flying solo for a few days while D is in Ojai, working. Generally, things have gone really well--Lucy went to sleep easily, has been her usual charming self, and I've managed to get some naps in when she woke up at godawful hours.
But lunchtime? What happened?
Sit down for lunch. Lucy trips (or something) and cries. I go to comfort her. Only she won't let me. She wanders around, pushing her stroller, yelling. Finally, I tell her I'm going to go eat my lunch (which was now mostly cold), and would she like some? Please? Since the lack of protein was probably why she was yelling?
No dice. She gets a book and asks me to read it.
No, I'm eating, sweetheart.
Read! Read! Read! Mamaamamamama. Read!
Take the book. More yelling. I tempt her with a banana. FShe sits in the high chair. I give her a variety of tempting offerings. Tea bags (which she likes to chew. Don't ask why). Water for said tea. Pasta. Banana. Tofu. Milk.
She shreds the teabag, tips over the milk, which swamps the rest of the food.
Still yelling, still not eating anything that might actually make things better.
I was about to lose it at this point. SO I clean up the milk, and I am telling her that I'm just the tiniest bit frustrated with her, just a tiny bit, when she says, plaintively, "Dada?"
The lightbulb went on. Tripping+hungry+missing Dada after two days of him gone? Probably a good excuse for not following Mom's agenda.
It's funny how it's a lot easier to be patient when you know why the child is not being easy.
We watched a little nature program to help us decompress. And she ate some eggs.
Everyone's happy again.
And it's only a few more hours till Dada comes home.