It's a penguin, silly

Harper found this little baby mitt on the floor of our closet and decided that wearing it transformed her into a baby penguin. She pronounces it "ping-goin." It's a funny thing to watch an imagination emerge. It can also be lots of work to keep up with all of the eccentricities. Toddlers create these little rituals. It's your job to figure out which ones are an essential part of their security and which (like the baby mitt/penguin transmogrifier--any Calvin and Hobbes fans out there?) turn out to be a pleasant diversion forgotten as soon as the mitt falls to the bottom of one of the toy bins. I remembered, when I heard wails coming from her crib one night last week when J. was putting her to bed, that I had forgotten to fill him in on an important new development. He came out looking puzzled. "Did she hurt herself?" I asked. "She kept saying something about her blanket," he said. Oh, that. You are supposed to make the blanket into a fish and then it swims down to snuggle under her chin. I thought he should probably rush back in there. He did not go back in to do the fish blanket. He is sensible. The next night she wanted me to make the blanket into a ping-goin. The last couple of days it's been a frog.
Speaking of caving to one's children, I completely surrendered to instant gratification with Hudson last night. I was too weak from sleep deprivation. Tonight, I have resolve of steel. Plus, we went to Babies r Us today and got a mattress and lowered him down into the bottom of the pack-n-play, which I, the eternal optimist, am hoping will be the panacea. One of my many theories/excuses for his troubled night sleep was that the top bassinette part was getting too wobbly for him and he felt like he was falling every time he'd move. Hey, if those mother penguins can march hundreds of miles (that might be slight hyperbole) to gorge on fish to regurgitate into their babies' mouths, the least I can do is buy a mattress or make a blanket into a frog.