This is how I spent my Saturday night:
With a cranky baby and a pile of plastic.
Mason was on a sleepover at Grandma C’s and Jamie was playing in his poker group’s year-end finale, so Avery and I said “Screw it! Girls’ night in! Lets build something!”.
I decided to remantle (is that a word? As opposed to dismantle?) Mace’s old exersaucer for baby girl’s playing pleasure because hey! She’s about to hit the big 0-4 (months) this week, so its time to start bustin’ out some toys, right?
Problem is, I’m not very handy. And that plastic is tough to snap together.
I sustained an injury or two.
Avery was less-than-impressed at her mother’s abject lack of plastic-snapping strength.
It was frustrating, believe me. At one point both of us may-or-may-not have been crying: her, pointedly irritated with the ignoring of her needs; me, yelling “I’m doing this for you, damnit!” while attempting to jackhammer a plastic leg into a miniscule hole. True mother-daughter bonding at its finest.
And seriously? AAA batteries?
I swore violently and repeatedly upon discovering that little bit of information.
At long last the building process was complete, and I got to sit back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of my labour.
Except Ave wasn’t exactly buyin’ it.
I think intense overstimulation is a better word.
Within a matter of seconds, she went from this:
Aaaaaannnnnd, the fun was done. Remind me why I miss my free-wheelin’ single days again? :)