Sockin' It To Ya

Birdie Brigade, as you know, Our Birdie is her own Bird. Of late, she has been exerting her will when it comes to her socks. When Joe was her same age, of course, he didn't have a three-and-a-half year old showing him how it was done. But Clara sees her big brother picking out his own undies, and his own socks, and she will do the same to the extent she can, thank you very much. It took her a few days to get her well-meant (but frankly doltish) parents to catch what she was throwing. Initially, we were thinking she just thought the socks were toxic and her feet would instantly rot if she put them on. No. The socks were not toxic. We were just dumb. To get us to see reason, Birdie had to reject the socks initially proffered; go to her clothes cupboard and bang on the doors with an open hand; and then dramatically toss herself on the floor, wailing, when said cupboard remained closed. Now, after Birdie is dressed, the magical clothing cupboard is opened, she is lifted up to select her own pair, and then left to her own devices until she requests help, or it is time to go--by which point she has usually wrestled with them enough to know that it ain't gonna happen without an assist.*

*Having said that, we should, by way of an advance preview of coming attractions, mention that Birdie has learned how to do the coat-flip trick. She nails it every. Single. Time. Video to follow once we get our acts together during the morning melee to capture it on film.

Dude, I got this. How hard can it be? I've seen Doh do it.

It can't go on your hand? For real? So maybe it's a little hard. (It's true. I am running in and out of my room here. Opening and closing the door. It's all the rage right now with me and Doh.)