Confession

Ever since Baby went bipedal something in me changed too. Whenever I'd hear her quick little pitty-pat coming my way I'd be overcome with an irresistible urge... the urge to hide.

And I don't mean cover my head with a blanket, but be otherwise completely visible, kind of hiding... as is more of the norm amongst toddlers' parents. No I'm not talking about peek a boo. I mean run for your life "you are being hunted by a predator" kind of hiding.

I can't even explain it. I love her. I'm not even trying to get away from her... I just have to do it.

So say it's 5 o'clock and I'm in the kitchen cooking and Baby knows I'm in the kitchen cooking. She wants a cookie. I hear her coming. Her pace is picking up and I start feeling antsy. I can't help myself. I take off running down the hallway and quickly (and silently) shove myself down in the bottom of the linen closet. And hold my breath.

I imagine a normal toddler would come in the kitchen look around and say "Mommy?!" somewhat befuddled. Not Baby. Baby is like a miniature Jason Bourne. She knows I'm not in the kitchen before she even gets there. She doesn't even slow down. It's like she's got a built-in homing device. Without breaking stride she keeps going straight to the linen closet. She gets down on all fours and presses her big chubby cheeked grinning face up to the crack... and says "Mommy... cookie."