Little Women's Intuition

First I figured that no one would want to read about my daughter's latest BM with the horrific news from New Orleans. Then I figured that this stuff might be exactly what people want to read right now. So here goes.

Siena's second birthday is Monday, and GranMary and Pop-Pop have come to California to celebrate with a weekend stay at Disneyland; Aunt Lorraine joins us Friday night. This means, of course, that Mama and Daddy have had to secret throughout the house all the presents that we've bought for her. The plan is to wrap them all and bring some of them to Disneyland for her to open on her birthday, and keep it a surprise.

You'd be surprised how hard it is to hide presents from a two-year old.

We hid a bunch in my office closet. Now when would Siena ever have any interest in a closet that usually holds nothing but blank CD-ROMs and empty three-ring binders? But for the past three days she's been trying to open that closet, and I've had to pull her kicking and screaming away from the doorknob.

Tonight, Mama was in the bedroom wrapping the presents that we'd hidden in our closet. Again, there's little reason for Siena to come in the bedroom when all her toys are elsewhere and GranMary and Pop-Pop are eager to give her attention. But she pushed the door open, trying to get a look at what she intuitively knew was in there. And Mama had to push her away, causing another tantrum.

The kid knows. We don't know how she knows; we don't think that we slipped up and actually let her see anything. Whether it's intuition, intellect, or ESP, one thing is for certain: we're gonna have a hard time selling the story of Santa Claus. Although maybe she's smart enough to play along.

Deedith Saves

Siena's getting better in church, and it's been a long time coming.

Of course, for about her first six months Siena was great in church. She'd fall asleep in the car en route to the 5:30 pm Mass, and stay asleep through dinner afterward. Then she started to keep regular waking hours, and she didn't appreciate sitting in this big, boring room for an hour and not being able to play. It got even worse when she learned to walk and, shortly thereafter, to run. Away from us. And toward the altar.

Since we arrived out west, she's been getting better. You ask her where the priest is, and she points him out. You ask her where Jesus is, and she points to the big crucifix over the altar and says "Deedith." She can even tell you that Jesus is on the cross, though it comes out "dahth." Then today, when everyone knelt down, Siena did likewise. Of course, she's staring straight into the back of the pew in front of us. But she clasps her hands and does her best.

She also insists on walking to Communion, rather than be carried in Daddy's arms. So far she's been remarkably well-behaved, though I keep a firm grip on her hand, just in case.