Mugged by a toddler

What do talking on the phone, eating treats and drinking soda have in common?

These are all things I have to enjoy behind closed doors these days.

Danny has reached full-blown toddlerhood and that means whatever he sees apparently belongs to him. Despite what you may believe from my Libertarian outlook, I really don't mind sharing. But sharing is much more pleasant when you don't feel assaulted. What Danny does is more like a mugging where the weapon is the most annoying and shrill whining you can imagine.

Lately, I've noticed that I don't really eat much until after Danny goes to bed. For me, a nursing mother with a history of blood sugar crashes, that can be a disaster. I hate to sound like a martyr here, but caring for him and Fiona together leaves little time for me to eat properly or without being mugged. By the time my blood sugar tanks, I usually end up eating high-sugar snacks or drinks that I can down quickly instead of sipping of orange juice to help redirect my hunger to something healthier. So I wind up sneaking a cookie or a handful of candy in the bathroom or a Diet Coke in an opaque cup so as not to rile the terror, I mean, the toddler. Let's face it, cookies and Coke are quicker than a sandwich or some crackers and cheese or fruit.

Danny is also obsessed with the phone. If I'm on it, he needs to talk to whoever has called. That's not a problem when it's the Nanas or other family members. On the bright side, if a telemarketer or some other pariah calls, I can just hand the phone to Danny and he'll tell them all about his blanket and train tracks. And he does hand the phone back to me after a few minutes. So if you call and it sounds like I'm in a tunnel, it's because I'm hiding in the bathroom. And if you don't hear from me for a while, don't call or send a search party, just e-mail.

I added new photos to the February photo album:

From February 2009