No accounting for taste.

Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous outside (considering it's March and still officially winter). I finished my work tour early, and decided to take Babygirl to the playground. I figured it's nice outside, there'll be other kids to play with, and she loves climbing so she'll climb up everything in sight, right? Wrong. We get there, and there's three other kids to play with, two close in age to hers, and all this cool climbing/sliding equipment. What does Babygirl want to do? Crouch down, pick up handfuls of fine gravel/dirt, and PUT IT IN HER MOUTH. I pick her up to leave and she kicks up a huge fuss. I tell her, Fine, we'll try this again, and if you want to play we'll stay, but if you eat more dirt we're leaving. I put her down. Her feet hit the ground, her knees bend, her hands hit the ground and she instantaneously shovels more dirt in her mouth. Enough. Done! So I scooped her back up, buckled her back into her car seat, and took her to the mall instead, where she got to ride grumpily in her stroller while Mama did some much-needed bra shopping. I figured, at least one of us might as well be happy, and it wasn't gonna be her, seeing as the only thing that would make her happy was being allowed to eat dirt.

By the way, let me just say it's very hard to fish tiny tiny gravel out of a 1 1/2 year old's mouth. It gets EVERYWHERE - along the gums, under the tongue, packed away in the cheeks. And she hasn't figured out yet that when I say "Don't Bite!" what I mean is "Don't Bite!" and not, say, "Yes, please do bite me some more!"

And so continues my babygirl's metamorphosis into toddlerhood.