Audrey asks me for help now. And it is ridiculous.

I've been working for a while on training Audrey to actually ask for help when she needs something, rather than just screaming angrily until someone comes to her aid. For instance, her book collection is wedged somewhat tightly into a bin, and sometimes she has trouble getting the exact book she wants out of the bin. So rather than just standing there crying and tugging on the book she wants with no success, I've been teaching her to say "help, Mommy!"

She's finally gotten the hang of it, and she asks me for help often now.

But it's never with activities you or I might consider worthwhile. It's always ... weird toddler things.

Here is a list of recent activities that Audrey has requested my help with:


She got her finger stuck in a part of our humidifier

Audrey took a piece off our humidifier and was carrying it around. I'm not sure what her plan for it was, but we never really got to find out: she stuck her finger into one end of it, and then couldn't get her finger back out, so she ran up to me saying "help, Mommy! Help, Mommy!" while waving around the plastic-encased finger. Not to worry; I was able to remove the humidifier piece from her digit without issue. And then I did not give it back to her.


She was trying to wedge a plastic bath toy into a glass jar that was too small for it

Audrey has a glass candy jar that she likes to play with. She is always putting stuff in it and then putting the lid on, I think because she likes that she can see through it and she likes the 'plink' sound things make as she drops them into the jar.

One day, she decided to put half of a a plastic bath ball inside the jar. Which was a fantastic idea, except for one problem: the bath toy was bigger than the jar. It got stuck in the mouth of the jar no matter which way she tried to put it in (and she tried them all). There was just no way it was going to happen.

But Audrey, filled with that blind faith in parental ability that makes having kids so fun, turned to me. "Help, Mommy!" She just knew that I, as her mother, could manipulate matter and bend space-time until that bath toy fit into the glass jar. I would rearrange the atoms themselves if necessary, and I wouldn't quit until the toy was fully inside the jar and she could put the lid back on.

She found herself disappointed. This is not something that I can do.



She wanted to put a second binkie into Elmo's mouth but it wouldn't fit

Sharing a binkie with Elmo is a very nice thing to do. Sharing TWO binkies, though? Now we've ventured into crazyland.

One binkie apiece seems very reasonable.

Getting two binkies into Elmo's mouth is a challenge. They just don't fit. But as we already established, Audrey believes that I have the power to manipulate matter and space until things fit places they shouldn't, so naturally this problem required my assistance.

Unlike with the bath toy in the glass jar, however, I was able to make the two binkies fit into Elmo's mouth. I mean yeah dinner was ruined because I had to abandon it to tend to Audrey's pressing concerns, and yeah the kitchen nearly caught fire because of it, and yeah she just pulled the second binkie out an instant later, but you're missing the point. 

She needed me to do something, and I did it. That's all that matters.



She couldn't reach a knife on the counter

I don't know what she wanted it for, but when she asked for my help in reaching it, I declined to assist.

I don't want no trouble.

She threw a bunch of stuff into her crib and then couldn't get it out

She never learns this one. Never.

Take a bunch of stuff. Throw it up over the side of the crib. Realize you can't reach it anymore. Shout for help.

I return the stuff. The cycle repeats.

Audrey. Stop doing this.



Her carrot got stuck in some ketchup

The carrot in question became mired in a pool of ketchup while Audrey was eating dinner, and she couldn't get it with her fork because she kept spearing it directly from above and then trying to pull the fork straight up instead of turning it to the side. Pulling the fork straight up just made the tines slip out, as they were no match for the incredible suction power of the ketchup.

Now, I'm not trying to sound like some hot shot super powerful "time is money!" type of asshole here, but I do believe that removing a piece of carrot from a puddle of ketchup is a bit below my pay grade. Couldn't she have just, y'know, used her hand to pick up the carrot? Like she does 98% of the time anyway?

Total power move.

Next time a carrot gets stuck in some ketchup, I recommend she call President Obama to come liberate it. Or at least call 911. I bet those guys have nothing better to do.

"WE GOTTA HURRY! THIS KID NEEDS US!"

She had trouble placing a plastic bug inside a slinky

Don't worry, y'all, I nailed this one.

And then when she couldn't get the bug back out of the slinky, I was there for that too. 

Yeah, I know. I'm a pretty great mom.


Don't stop asking for help, Audrey. I got your back.

Most of the time.

I'm not giving you any knives though.

And I'm sorry I can't bend matter to my will yet. :-(  I'm working on it.