Day Ninety - Six or Diva in Training

Well, if my son is on his way to Hollywood then my daughter is on her way to the Metropolitan Opera. First off, her diva status is well-established. But lately, she has a new move. She has started this high-F, glass breaking scream. It is almost keening. And she has learned that it is powerful. Life stops whens she does this. No one can think straight. It literally hurts my brain. Add to that, we live in an apartment. We can't just let her shake the rafters (and seriously she is shaking the rafters). So as I try creative ways to redirect this dramatic energy, I think I will see if there are toddler soprano classes. You never know, maybe she'll be on Leno as the youngest star of Tosca.
:-)

Total side note. She said the funniest thing to me tonight. We were cuddling for bedtime. Now I have a confession. Despite the fact that I stopped breastfeeding ages ago, she is constantly trying to put her hands down my shirt. This is especially true when she is tired or anxious. I have been trying to break her of the habit but it is still a battle. So back to bedtime cuddles. I am still dressed in street clothes (read: still wearing a bra-- a good one that makes me look like I didn't lose two cup sizes breastfeeding) and she touches my breasts and says, "Mommy, these just pretend". "What baby? What's pretend?" She replies, "You breasts, Mommy". "No, baby, not pretend". "Yes, they are, Mommy. Pretend". Now that's honest. And that's funny. Out of the mouths of babes