Dressing Downfall
This past weekend we celebrated Easter with family and lots of food. Most kids get excited over the thought of an egg hunt or forthcoming chocolate, Cardin was more ecstatic about being able to wear a dress and fancy shoes. Only my child would desire a dress over chocolate. Clearly, I’ve not done a good job in explaining the role that chocolate will play in her life and the endorphin high she will get from ingesting it; maybe it’s time to bust out the powerpoint.
Sunday morning at 6:30 am she sauntered into our room, and instead of asking to see if the Easter Bunny came, like other normal children, she asked if it was time to put on her “pretty dress and dancing shoes”. Listen Lady, momma needs to waddle herself to the bathroom and pee first before we discuss any piece of clothing.
Luckily, we were able to distract her for about 30 minutes with an egg hunt and searching for her hidden Easter basket before we had to revisit the whole dress scenario. Since I could not convince her otherwise, she got dressed BEFORE breakfast. This is always a major risk as my child has a tendency to vomit by simply swallowing air. 
We had reservations for brunch at noon, and Cardin spent the remainder of the day dancing on any hard surface so that she could hear her heels click. 
Peter Cottontail
I’ve infrequently ventured outside the house lately because my belly seems to be smashing into inanimate objects and small children. Because of such, Cardin hit up the mall with my parents to go see the Easter Bunny. They kindly documented this occassion for me. 
On a side note, I’m a little sad that she actually calls him the Easter Bunny now. Last year, she would only refer to him as the Easty Bunny; which is, by far, a superior name.
Unlike with Santa, she seems to have no fear of the Easter Bunny. She jumped right up into his lap and smiled away for a picture. I don’t find the Easter Bunny as particularly disturbing as Santa Claus so I’m more on board with her visitation. Perhaps it’s the soft fur, fluffy tail, or the drugged out stare eminating from his eyes that lulls me into complacency. 
While sitting in his lap, Cardin proceeded to ask him, “where do you live?” Listen Lady, I can totally follow her logic. Santa lives in the North Pole and after Christmas, when all the decorations come down, he returns to his humble abode so he can start to make toys for next year. By the same conclusion, the Easter Bunny must go somewhere once all the Easter decorations come down. Where you livin’ at Bitches!!!!!
Since the person that portrays the Easter Bunny is not allowed to talk, ya know….for fear of giving away homeland secrets, Cardin received a blank stare directly followed by one of those AWKWARD SILENT MOMENTS.
The Easter Bunny quickly picked up a basket of small toys and thrust it at Cardin; hoping to avoid any further communication. This seemed to appease her; Cardin picked out a rubber ducky and went on her way to go ride the merry-go-round.
Well played Easter Bunny, well played.
Placebo Effect
Cardin woke up the other night with the croup and since then, her nose has been a continuous stream of snot. She still hasn’t grasped the whole “blow your nose concept” so we run after her with a Kleenex trying to keep the green slime out of her hair and mouth. Another perk of parenthood is you then acquire that same head cold.
When she doesn’t feel well she will typically ask for “medcine” and usually won’t back down; throwing a major hissy fit until she gets some. Since I’m not keen on drugging my kid unless she’s running a fever, we’ve come up with a “placebo” medicine. Take heed Internet, this is where I let you in on one of the tricks of parental manipulation. Don’t be flabbergasted Internet, I bet you $500 that your parents used bribery and manipulation on you too!
I fill a syringe with Kool-Aid and we pass this off as “medicine”. Listen Lady, it’s not my proudest moment as a parent, but it’s a win-win. Cardin is none the wiser and we aren’t answering calls from social services. She takes the placebo medicine and we go about our merry business without question. Who knows how long this trick will last, but for now we gratefully accept the calm it brings.
As a side, I need to make this disclaimer:
Dear 17 year old Cardin,
I credit Daddy with this burst of creative genius, as he originally had the idea to supplement grape Kool-aid for baby Tylenol in order to save us a major meltdown and inevitable puke session. Mommy would never be so stealthy.
ps. Santa didn’t really sign all those Christmas presents
Love,
Momma