Is That A Smile or Are You Unhappy to See Me?

Brigid is moving into the realm of the two-year-old, complete with anger and fits of rage at not getting her way. She has exhibited on a number of occasions that she wants what she wants, when she wants it, or will scream and stamp her feet. The scream is one of anger, not one of her previously tested vocalizations. She has also occasionally thrown herself on the floor. Our reaction, of course, is mild amusement but not so that she can see. The other night, after putting her to bed under less-than-ideal circumstances (she wanted out; I wanted her in) she stood in her crib and screamed angrily, shaking the side of the crib and stamping, all of which I heard through a closed door.

She has no patience and gets very angry when she has to repeat her demands more than several times over. But that's typical of the age and you just have to roll with the punches. Thankfully, the punches aren't planted anywhere on your body.

She has become quite the parrot, repeating just about everything you say to her. Some of it sticks, and she says it appropriately. I'm not sure whether it came from a movie (in Toy Story, Sid, the maniacal next-door-neighbor boy, says, "Oh, man!" when it starts to rain, thus delaying his diabolical plans to blow up Buzz) but Brigid has taken to saying, "Oh, man!" on occasion. Sometimes its even at appropriate moments of exasperation. But imagine "Oh, Man!" coming out of that little face, with her little voice using the right inflections. It's hysterical.

She also understands when the little heater in her room, mounted on a shelf, starts up. She says, "Hot. No touch." Hopefully, she will heed that warning forever.

Last night's bedtime went more smoothly than the previous evening. But she has been congested and has spent a lot of time nose mining. I haven't seen any boogies up there, and she's actually let me inspect -- visually only, I assure you -- because I think she knows how uncomfortable it is and if I could relieve some of that discomfort it would be acceptable to her. However and alas, no such luck. So last night's easy bedtime could be attributed to the fact that I have her a bit of dimetap to help dry her up.

Margaret had an orthodontist appointment this morning, which took a lot longer than her usual adjustment appointments. They took an x-ray and made new impressions, so I told her that may indicate the beginning of the end for her braces. It will be three years in February, and she's about had it. The only problem is, she isn't done with orthonditia. The braces have adjusted her teeth so that the space left by her genetically missing tooth is there for future implantation. However, she has to be old enough to have an implant because if her jaw is still growing and changing, it will all be for naught. The work also has to be coordinated with her dentist, so a copy of the x-ray will be sent to Dr. Nicoll for his input. The main concern is taking the braces off too soon, before an implant is prudent, which would then allow the teeth to shift back over and take up the space that was created in the first place. $2,400 down the drain. She's set to go back to the orthodontist at the beginning of March, so we know nothing will happen before then. One thing we do know, however, is that Margaret is sick of having braces. Patricia is coming up on a year with hers, and so far, she's not sick of them. Good thing, because she's in for the long haul. We can only wait to see what's in store for our Baby B. Hopefully nothing more than a beautiful smile, that is, unless it's clenched in a rage-filled grimace. You never can tell with almost-two-year-olds.