On Saturday night, Mike and I stayed over at Mike’s sister’s house to guard her children while she and her husband had a night away (what, babysitting just doesn’t seem like the right term). This has become an annual thing, so Mike and I were feeling confident that we could handle four kids, if not slightly worried for how exhausted we’d be. With the kids all being a year older, we figured it would be easier than last year – I mean, the kids can all talk, and my nephews are pretty self-sufficient. But to secure our awesomeness, we were sure to bring fun things for our niece and nephews to enjoy. Except in remembering stuff for those kids, we kind of forgot about our own kid.
We didn’t, you know, literally forget her. She never stops talking so if you were about to forget her she’d be like, “Hello! Don’t forget me!” But we forgot little things she’d enjoy, like her most precious and necessary possession – her Wobble.
But, for the majority of the afternoon and evening, none of us even realized Wobble wasn’t around. We were all too busy playing in the backyard, eating pizza, and watching movies. Eventually the boys wanted to do…boy things, I don’t know, so I helped the girls play dress up. Holy moly, the “mine” phase is on super-turbo with two year old girls playing dress up. My shoes! My dress! My bracelet! At one point during a particularly fierce fight over a purple crown I said, “Annie, everything here is Michaela’s, so play nicely and tell her thank you for sharing! Michaela, it’s ok if we all take turns, right?” The girls both looked at me for a moment and then immediate went back to, “Myyyyyyyy crooooooooown!” So then no one got the crown, because I put it on a high shelf.
So anyway, the majority of our awake time was filled with lots of arguing and making up…
…which left no time for anyone (especially Annie) to notice Wobble wasn’t there.
Then came bed time. The boys were a dream, they knew their routine and basically put themselves to bed. Even Michaela was easy and fell asleep quickly. Annabel, however, was completely out of sorts. She really thrives on her bedtime routine. We followed it as best we could, but she was upset and kept asking for her own bed. It was at this point I realized we’d left Wobble at home. I passed this message onto Mike via our complicated parental secret language (spelling out words), and his eyes got wide. And yet…Annie never asked for Wobble.
After two hours (!!!) of Annie whimpering and crying, we finally finally finally got her to sleep. She was in bed for three minutes or so and then we suddenly heard, “Wobble? Where’s Wobble?” We tried telling her that Rigby was using it (Rigby was at my parents’ house because Mike’s sister has cats), which placated her for a few minutes, but then she’d get sad and call out for her blanket again. This went on for at least another hour…I ‘m not certain because I was banging my head against the wall.
Luckily for Annie, the three 24-hour Claritins I took were no match for my severe cat allergies, and at 2:30 am I had a massive allergy/asthma/eye swelling incident and Mike basically forced me to go home for the night (with Annie). He says he was looking out for my health, but I think he realized between my wheezing and Annie’s whimpering, he wasn’t going to get any sleep. So at 3am, Annie was finally reunited with her Wobble, and all was right with the world.
…Until she realized Rigby wasn’t home, and then the cries of, “My Riiiiiiiiiiigby” started.