My Lil Diva is 19 months old today.
I lack photos, which shall hopefully be remedied by borrowing Bobbi’s camera. Soon.
Instead, read the comedic play below to get a glimpse into Lil Diva’s mind, vocabulary, and temperament at 19 months.
Kelly K: as Mother
Lil Diva: as Lil Diva
Act 1: Mommy and Lil Diva Time
Scene: 1.7 (1 year, 7 months old)
Setting: First floor of The House of Chaos. Patches of white tile peek through the littered toys tracked from the Playroom Where A Dining Room Should Be – aka First Place Everyone Sees When Visiting.
(A rare silence descends as The Tackler rides with CG to his Mother’s Day Out Program. We see a young female toddler in desperate need of a haircut and her mother, clad in jean shorts and a too big holy t-shirt. They stand in the entryway.)
Lil Diva: (She runs to the door, blowing kisses to her brother and daddy. One hand lifts next to her ear as the tiny fingers open and close in a clam-like wave). Bye! Bye! Bye! (She turns to her mother, a full grin upon her face.)
Mother: (Sighs with relief her daughter chose the happy good-bye over the incoherent “I want to go with them!” screeching that is very common. Suddenly, she catches a scent in the air). Do you have a stinky diaper?
Lil Diva: (beams with pride) Pot-tee! Pot-tee!
Mother: Yes, we’re supposed to use the potty before you fill your diaper. But thank you for telling me. Go plop on your changing pad please.
Lil Diva: (goes to where the pad lays on the playroom floor, rolling herself onto it like a limp doll, bottom completely off the actual pad.) Pate!
Mother: (Bringing wipes and buttpaste from the kitchen cupboard – the lure of them and their use for destruction too strong to be left within her reach. She re-situates LD onto the pad.) Here’s the paste sweetie. (M gives it to LD as she begins diaper change.)
(LD tries to eat the tube throughout the following conversation, until removed from her grasp later in the scene.)
Mother: No. No. We don’t eat the buttpaste. It is ICKY.
LD: (scrunching her face) Eh-Kee!
M: That’s right. Ick-ee. It can make you sick.
M: I agree. What has your daddy been feeding you? This is disgusting.
LD: (giggles) Dad-dee!
M: Yes, Daddy took your brother to school. Next year you will both go to Mother’s Day Out together and Mommy with have four hours all to herself. I need the paste.
(LD hands it over as Mother applies it).
M: Good girl. You’re such a big helper. Can you say help?
M: I’m so glad you learned that word last week. I greatly prefer it to your previous ear shattering shriek. Sure, it means I have to stand around your booster chair for ten minutes so I can unbuckle the straps you fasten every thirty seconds, but Mommy still loves “Help please!” over the screech. (hands the paste back to LD as she re-clothes her.)
(both cats circle, investigating the stench)
LD: (points enthusiastically) Kit-tee! Kit-tee!
M: That’s right. It’s Shaft kitty cat and MacGyver kitty cat.
(LD tries to bolt off the changing pad now that the diaper change is complete, stealing the buttpaste and running behind the kangeroo climber to hide. She elicits an 19 month old cackle of delight.)
M: Oh no you don’t. Thirty seconds unmonitored and you’ll eat through the tube. (removes tube as LD wails in protest) I have to throw out the stinky diaper and wash my hands.
(M dodges trail of toys as exits backstage out backdoor. LD runs behind, little legs moving faster than should be possible. She squishes face into glass door, forming a “pig face” on the other side to greet Mother. M carefully re-enters, as LD attempts to squeeze by her and escape onto the deck)
LD: Uh uh. Side! (irritation at Mother blockade)
M: No, we aren’t going outside right now. See how the deck looks green? Daddy needs to clean the pollen off, even though he just did it last night.
(Dogs can be heard barking faintly, as if the next door neighbors keep them penned between LD’s house and theirs.)
LD: Arf-arf! Dog-gee! (tosses head back until looking at ceiling) PEES! SIDE!
M: Yes, that is a dog barking. We’ll go outside later. Mommy has to wash her hands.
LD: (reaches hands high toward M) Up! Up! (when M doesn’t respond within five seconds, she tosses head back again) PEES!
M: Good job saying “Please!” Try to not yell it, okay? (holds index finger above lips) Quietly.
LD: (mimics finger action) Shh! Shh! Shh!
M: That’s right! Quiet. Good girl! (washes hands as LD wraps arms around M’s legs in vice grip) You’re making it very difficult for Mommy to move.
LD: (grabs M’s dripping finger, leading her to the refrigerator) Uh! Unh!
(M opens the fridge door)
M: What do you want?
LD: Ap-puh. (reaches for giant Fuji apples)
M: Uh, how about we have that later when big brother is here to share?
LD: Ap-PUH! (throws head back again) PEEZ!
M: Don’t you want some blueberries instead?
LD: No! (shakes head vehemently) AP-PUH!
M: What about a banana? Do you want to eat an banana?
LD: (pauses in dramatics) Baba? (considers) No no.
M: (sighs in defeat) You want to eat an apple?
M: Go sit at the table.
LD: Sit! (This word comes out sounding more like s**t. She runs to booster chair or the indoor kid picnic table then waits for ten seconds. When apple fails to appear washed, cut, and ready, she switches between whines and dramatic wails.) PEEZ!
M: I have to wash it first. Patience, my dear.
(LD’s dramatics continue until thin slice of apple is placed before her)
M: What do we say?
M: You said that already. What do you say when you get what you want?
LD: (thinks) Peez.
M: No, we say “thank you.”
LD: (She blows kiss which is also sign for “thank you”.) Tay-ooo.
M: Good girl! Mommy is so proud!
(LD shoves entire paper thin slice into mouth. Three seconds later, pulls mushed bits out and tosses it on the floor.)
Mother: (glances between giant apple remaining and slice on the floor) So that’s how its going to be, huh? Bring. It. On.
Happy 19 months, Lil Diva!