Turbo is a funny word, isn't it? Turrr-bow. Lots of lip movement going on to say that word. Movement, in general, is how Emmeline earned the nickname Turbo. So feminine, don't you think? While Emmeline might be the most beautiful 10 month old around if I do say so myself, she is also turbo charged from dawn to dusk. Examples? Today she slept a whopping 45 minutes. People, that is not even an hour. All. day. long. And our day was kinda on the big side: shopping, playing outside, swimming. She keeps on going. She nurses, gazes at me, and BOOM ready to go again. Required recharging time? About 5 minutes.
So. Now I have done what I had previously thought barbaric, cruel, unnecessary, and old fashioned. I have never done this before with any child. But she is no typical child. At ten months she climbs to a stand in the shopping cart in .05 seconds; ignores toys and instead chases the cat; lives to zip under the dining room table where it is hard for me to reach her and where she usually bonks her head, and likes to stand behind her high chair to push on it so it rolls. One of her major thrills happens when the dishwasher door magically lowers and beckons her to (successfully) climb up and on the inside of the door. All this would be find IF SHE WOULD TAKE A DECENT NAP. But she doesn't, and I have a house to run and five other kids to enjoy. Here it is, my moment of maternal shame:
I put her in a play pen.
Oh, dear readers, do not be fooled by the shine of happiness in her eyes. The picture was taken before she knew I was going to walk away and, I don't know, maybe tidy up the house a bit? The older kids were mortified; I couldn't stand the whining and calling of ma ma ma ma ma; she seemed like an animal on display at a zoo. And I took her out. And ignored the house, and watched my baby be a happy baby, going after puzzle pieces and lego animals.
We might try again another day when I get desperate for a bathroom break. Or when she ::: shudder ::: starts really walking.