As the city that has been labeled as having the highest crime rates in 2006 and 2010 (it's currently at #3. Whew, what a relief! Haha, no), St. Louis is a place I am happy to live 20 minutes away from. I get to go to the nice malls, see the concerts and theater shows, eat at the fine restaurants, and then turn around and drive back home to my safer suburb. There is a problem, however, when it comes to transporting an almost two-year-old home from STL just before nap time.
She falls asleep. Of course. Usually for the last 5 or 10 minutes of the drive. Of course. Then I have to wake her up (no, I will not drive around in circles for an hour because it's lunch time and I want to get out of the car). She gets upset. Of course.
REALLY upset.
Yesterday involved a charming half hour of screaming, body flailing, head banging, punch throwing, and senseless acts of trying to move things that are impossible for a toddler to lift (like the stone-tiled iron coffee table, really?). There was nothing I could do to calm her down, so I just gave her some pillows and let her go to town as I tried to prepare lunch for us. It wasn't until the food was on the table that the last snotty sniffles were snuffed, and the wet, red cheeks started to dry off and regain their usual color. She was gibbering away, happy as a clam, by the time she had finished eating.
Today had the same fun, but also included me setting off our home security alarm (I said our suburb was *safer*, not safe) when I walked in the door, and I had to be on the phone with a security representative all the while R is screaming bloody murder in the background. "Yes, we're all fine and good here, sir, thank you." Sigh.
I wanted today to go better than yesterday, so I tried something different. After hanging up the phone, I held on tightly to the flailing Cupcake and took her upstairs to her room. I set her inside with a pacifier and shut the door. Her screams started to take on a rhythm: loud and quiet, loud and quiet. After three minutes, during a quiet point, I opened the door to check on her. She started right back in with the frustrated cries. I closed the door again and let her be. Five minutes later, I peeked in again, and got the same unhappy reaction; she wanted nothing to do with me. I waited ten minutes before finally opening the door again, and this time was different. She was lying in bed with the covers thrown over her head. When I asked her if she was feeling better, she threw the covers off with a smile, then came over and hugged my legs. Thank you.
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