Everything is a Cookie

To my one year old, all food is a cookie. As I sit here and eat my raisins and bran, Amelia is at my side blowing (because she thinks that food needs to be blown on) and tugging on my shirt saying “cookie” over and over again. As much as having a toddler stand there and tug and yell at me grates away at my patience I also find it fascinating to watch her strategize her attack. (This blog doesn’t believe that the word “strategize” exists, by the way. Had to look it up to make sure I wasn’t going crazy. Now back to the story.)

Her attack: first she spots her target. In this case the poor target is the “cookie” or my bran cereal. Next she approaches the holder of the target, which would be me. After that she implements a no-holds-barred onslaught of rambling and “cookie” calls until the victim of her attack either gives in or leaves the area. Now, on some occasions, if she doesn’t get what she wants she retaliates against the set up defenses with a system of screams, cries and other equally tantrum like tactics. Of course, this does not work in the slightest and usually results in nap time, so this method is rarely used. But it doesn’t end there.

Recently she has started learning a new technique for acquiring “cookies.” If she cannot get her morsel of deliciousness in the above ways she will devise a plan that involves bartering. That’s right. To get my “cookie” she attempted to offer me one of her own “cookies” (a wheat thin) to trade with. Her skills are quite impressive and on occasion I find myself wondering if I do indeed want a wheat thin instead.

I have every reason to think that this is just the beginning, for she is the most analytical one year old I have ever seen. Plans will be devised and implemented. Mommy and Daddy will be caught off their guard. Grandma will laugh. Until then all we can do is sit back, wait and watch.


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