“Mo! Mommy, mo!”
In normal baby vernacular, you’d think Angel Face was asking me for ‘more’ something-or-another. In our household, the one run by a bossy 20-month-old who has no real plan but sure wants you to follow her down the path of the righteous, ‘mo’ is short for “COME ON!”
Sometimes, she really wants something from you – she wants you to come dance to “Old MacDonald Had A Farm” as brought to you by the Fridge DJ. Or she wants you to come into the bathroom with her while she closes the door and screams “Bye bye!” at the top of her lungs. Or she simply wants you to walk round with her while she clutches your fingers and pulls you along with what seems like a clear purpose but really is just a ruse to get you to bend to her will.
This all started late last week, when I arrived at day care to find Angel Face pulling another (much bigger and two months older) little girl around by the wrist, shouting, “Mo! Mo!” Angel Face wanted them to play with the kiddie keyboard. Then they chased each other around the room screaming like six-year-olds at a slumber party. That would drive me out of my mind, but the day care provider was unfazed by the deafeningly shrill shrieks.
It continued with me on Friday afternoon, when I just wanted to sit down for TWO SECONDS and plan some meals for the next two weeks and maybe write out a grocery list, damn it. Instead, I was doing laps around the island in the kitchen and being pulled into the “fort” under her Disney Princesses table.
While I huddled there under the pink table, watching Angel Face giggle with delight when my butt kept knocking the table legs, I realized that the grocery list will wait. I can plan meals after bed time. Because this little face won’t be asking me to “mo” forever.