Julia had her first dentist's appointment today. She handled it with aplomb, letting the hygienist and the dentist both look (briefly!) in her mouth and pronounce her healthy. Sitting next to the chair during the exam, I was moved to see her touching her fingertips together (a classic sign that she's stressed) and rubbing her index finger and thumb together, as if she had an invisible silky. Getting three Pooh stickers, a new toothbrush (which we had to use in the bathroom at the dentist's office, so eager was she), and some cheap toys made it all easier.
I don't know if it was overtiredness, residual stress from the appointment, or garden-variety toddlerism, but the girl ended her day with a colossal post-bedtime meltdown. To prevent endless delays over selecting a "friend" for bed, we recently mandated that she choose a friend before getting into bed, then either keep that friend in bed or drop him over the side if she doesn't want him. No calling for Mama and Daddy to get a different friend! Tonight, for the first time in ages, she chose her beloved Pinky Bear. Ten minutes after I left, she started calling for me over the monitor, saying, "I want a fwiend in bed, Daddy!" Having already forgotten that she had a friend, and so, encouraged by Shannon, I trooped back up there. Turns out she just didn't want Pinky; she wanted "another fwiend, Daddy." But when I asked her whom she wanted, she would only say, maddeningly, "Yes." After five minutes of fruitless questions and answers, I gave up and left, precipitating an Exorcist-style howl of agony. I went straight downstairs, where I heard Genevieve crying on her monitor. Back upstairs I went, to find that Shannon had gone into Julia's room to try and calm her down. Fifteen minutes later, she came back, with Julia still screaming for "another fwiend" in the background. I handed Genevieve back to Shannon for her nighttime nursing and headed back downstairs, but took a detour to listen at Julia's door. Bad move, because then I had to listen to her blubbering pathetically, "Mama come in again! I need another fwiend! Yes, yes, yes. I need another fwiend! Mama come in! Mama come in! Yes, yes, yes. Julia will just wait wight here for Mama to come in. Yes, yes, yes. Julia will just wait wight here for Mama to come in. Yes, yes, yes." It was the saddest thing I'd ever witnessed, not even barring holding my cat while the vet put him to sleep. Crying a little bit myself, I went in, gave her a hug, and helped her over to the toy basket holding her fwiends. We were methodically picking through them, Julia still weeping and me still sniffling, when suddenly she looked at me and said clearly, "I don't want a fwiend in bed, Daddy." I asked, "Not even Pinky Bear?" She shook her head, marched back to her bed, threw Pinky on the floor, and climbed in, asking, "What Julia crying about, Daddy?" I told her I wasn't sure, tucked her in, and turned to leave. She was sleeping by the time I reached the door.