“Helping” Mommy

There’s a baby girl with big brown eyes who follows me every where I go.  Honestly, sometimes I could be a little worried that I’m raising a creeper.  She follows me when I change the laundry. She follows me as I pick up the toys that seem to be slowly, but surely, taking over our house (Note to self: make another note to self to see that the toys don’t take over the house).  She follows me when I unload the dishwasher, and stands beside me as I reload it, hanging precariously onto my knee with one arm and pulling the silverware out of the tray as fast as I put them in.  Even when I have her playing happily and attempt to sneak off to use the bathroom in peace and quiet, as soon as she notices that I’m gone (which, if we’re being honest, takes a grand total of about half a second) I can hear her thunder-crawl faithfully pattering towards the bathroom door.
Incidentally, it is duly noted that the child has a sixth sense about where I am.  When I’m in the bathroom, she knows I’m in the bathroom.  There is no crawling around to see if I’m in the kitchen, laundry room, or dining room.  She has the instinct of a homing pigeon.

The only time she doesn’t follow me is when I have to vacuum.  My brown-eyed girl is terrified of the vacuum, for some unknown reason.  Since she was born I’ve always announced when I’m about to use the vacuum so that it doesn’t completely startle her, and I smile at her lots and talk over the noise.  I might as well be screaming and pulling my hair out in terror.  The instant I switch the vacuum on, she sits bolt upright and begins crying and reaching for me.  She won’t crawl over to me though, because that would make her be altogether too close to The Beast.  When I pick her up and try to let her help me push the vacuum she stops crying, but clings to me with a grip of death, still maintaining the look of general terror.

I do laugh about Sophiapea’s “creepy” following habits, and sometimes it’s the tiniest bit annoying, but I don’t really want her to stop.  She’s watching me work, and learning how to help.  Right now she may just pull the silverware out of the container and create general mayhem, but someday she’ll be helping me load the silverware into the dishwasher.  Right now she just unfolds the laundry, but someday she’ll help me fold it and put it away.

I don’t want her to hate being my helper-girl.  Though I’m sure times will come when she doesn’t want to help (because, lets face it, sometimes I don’t even want to do it) right now she just wants to be with me, and I’m happy for that.

“helping” mommy fold laundry aka spilling it all over the living room floor

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