...Let me explain.
Tate slept through the night at 9 weeks.
Naomi slept through the night at 12 weeks.
Darby gave me the best Christmas present of my life! At just six weeks, and on Christmas Eve, she slept through the night. WHAA?! At this point, I totally second guessed all my freakout sessions! I questioned why I let my blood pressure sky rocket over her hair color after delivery. Was she going to be...dun, dun, dunnnn...
...my EASY child?
Maybe Tate wasn't "The Red Flash" because he was a redhead after all! Maybe he was "The Red Flash" because he was a boy! Does a "Y" chromosome really have that much UMPH behind it? Could it be that ALL boys were "Red Flashes" and that my friend's son was just atypical? I mean, 18-month-old little boys cannot typically STAND on top of the steering wheel of a sit and spin like Tate did, can they (surely that's only something redheads can do)?! My mind was blown, and it wasn't for lack of sleep for once!
Darby was your typical baby.
She ate.
She slept.
She pooped.
She liked to be held.
...and then she turned one.
Do normal one-year olds know how to JUMP? I'm talkin' full-on JUMP (the two feet off the ground at the same time...JUMP)...because my other one-year-olds did not JUMP at age ONE (Not even my other redhead)!
Aside from JUMPING, Darby started to wear glasses a week before her first birthday. Thank God for glasses warranties. The day she got her first pair of glasses, she broke her first pair of glasses. I'm talkin', the girl manhandled them. I watched her. It was like watching The World's Strongest Man competition-the one where they bend metal bars- in slow mo'. Yep. I was in the car driving, and I watched it all go down in the rear view mirror...in ACTUAL slow mo'. This was just a "warm up," if you will.
When Darby was fifteen months old, she:
1~took a bite out of a bar of soap without wincing.
2~spit on the dog (I still don't know how to spit).
3~broke her sister's glasses.
4~threw my hat in the toilet.
Are you starting to feel like you're reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar?
It wasn't until she was about 18 months old that she REALLY started growing into her red hair. There was the time Tate got stung by a wasp. He was crying, so she walked up and slapped him across the face. Did she mean to hug him? Irrelevant. She full-on slapped him, which (remarkably enough) made him laugh! How do you discipline that behavior? I am still baffled!
Facebook status: June 5th, 2011:
I think I might be in trouble when Darby gets older. I turn around, she has broken a glass candleholder. I turn around, she's dancing on the desk. I turn around, she's pulled a chair over to the bar and is standing on it...she's like this sneaky little redhaired pixie!
I don't remember what the story is behind the candleholder, the desk dancing episode, or how she was so quick to climb on top of our countertop bar before I could stop her. It's probably all for the best that I forgot (Some might call it PTSD...I call it "forgot"). Regardless, I knew I was
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