Although she can’t really talk yet, Violet manages more and more to find ways to communicate. Recently, she has taken to bringing us objects that symbolize some desire on her part. A bag of unopened Fig Newtons from the cupboard = “Feed me snacks.” A blanket (or, if she can’t find a blanket, a towel or dirty T-shirt or other clothing item) = “Snuggle with me, I’m sleepy.”

This morning I got a new one. She’d just had a bath and was in our room watching cartoons, naked on account of a raw bottom needing some air. I was in her room making the bed when she showed up with a tissue, insisted I take it, and stood there waiting for me to act as expected. Hm. Puzzled, I began to walk toward where she had come from—our room—and she eagerly accompanied me, indicating that yes, this was the action she wanted from me. And there, in front of the TV on the floor, was a perfectly spherical, nearly tennis-ball-sized poop.

What amazes me here is not that the poop got hatched in front of the TV, that it was so huge, or that it “somehow” ended up formed in a ball. I’m impressed by the thought process that followed this poop event: (A) I need to let Mom know this is here, and (B) because this needs to be cleaned up. (With a tissue.) It’s sort of responsible.

In other Vibble news, this kid is officially a whole different kid from the one we knew a few weeks ago. No. 6 is now engaged full-on with Toddlerdom. We have some adjustments to make. First, there was a hurried addendum to baby-proofing, on account of her sudden abilities to (A) climb up on high things, like the chair on our balcony, and attempt to do teetery, dangerous things, and (B) reach drawers we thought were well out of reach and empty them of their contents, like, say, matches.

The next adjustment was to the insane amount of energy she suddenly has. I am caffeine-reliant in a big way here. It’s just not humanly possible to keep up with it unless I have some artificial stimulant on my side.

Finally, there is the issue of her messed-up sleep patterns. She’s a WRECK. And so are we—She hasn’t let us have a full night’s sleep in quite some time. Long (looonnngg) story short, we have realized, thanks to some great advice from friends, the Internet, and observations, that she needs something of a routine now. She’s not getting nearly as much sleep as is recommended, and one result is that she is so overtired and overwrought she has trouble settling down for sleep. Another result is that she doesn’t have the coping ability to handle herself when it comes to the increased energy, emotionality, and determination. A more consistent evening schedule and a specific bedtime will help with her getting enough sleep, as well as allow us to (MAYBE) start testing the waters with training her to put herself to sleep if we put her to bed still awake—but no rush on that one. I know, I know, self-soothing is an important skill a child needs to manage anxiety in the daytime (maybe without attaching herself to my legs all day?) as well as to be able to fall asleep (and fall back asleep if she wakes up in the middle of the night). But my attempts at this here and there—the whole “letting her cry it out” thing—have resulted in her becoming so upset, and for so long, and so LOUDLY, I can’t really picture us doing this right now. Since we haven’t done it from the start, she may need to mature a teeny bit more before we do it in our family, so it can be a collaborative project between us and her.

We have been discussing what happens when. Bedtime is at 2100 hours, and a short list of items that we plan to keep the same for a while lead from dinnertime to that bedtime. This is going to be tough for us. We’ll need to eat at home more to lessen overstimulating her and moving around the eating time. We’ll have to stick to our guns when she objects. We’ll have to wait until after she falls asleep to eat chocolate ice cream.

Wish us luck. Wish us SLEEP. And wish her a more well-adjusted toddlerhood.