Summer Storm

Laila woke up cranky this morning.

It wasn't difficult to discern that the 'Nggggmmmm...' coming out was not adorable cooing but was, in fact, a warning for people to stay clear 15 feet of her. She slept with us in bed so that was entirely impossible so soon after waking up.

And so I got the brunt of her early morning sumpong.

Her arms were flailing all over and she hit me in the cheek, the eye, the rib. When Daddy told her to stop, she burrowed her head under the pillows, wailing in despair.

She then demanded Dede and was pacified. She was her regular charming self after that. Even when Laila threatened to cry--in her loving, pleading way--as I told her I was leaving for work, she didn't. Instead, she saw me off the tricycle with her usual contented smile, sending me off with several flying kisses.

Then around noon I called the house to see how she was, and I could hear her wailing. She was bawling; panicked shrieks. When she got to the phone, she pleaded for Mommy and Daddy to 'Come here!'

That was a first. What was going on? She sounded like she was in pain.

After a while I called again, and she was contentedly watching a video, says cousin Ann. And then, in another phone call, she chirped 'Hi Mommy, what are you doing?'

What was that? This must be what the child experts say about young children's moods, that they're like a summer storm--unpredictable, fierce and, often, pacified quickly.

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I recently saw a news report about a nanny slapping her two-year old ward silly, all because of chips she wanted to finish by herself. The nanny got caught on hidden camera and is now in jail pending child abuse charges. The thought of Laila being manhandled by a caretaker while I am away has been a constant worry for me.

Living where we live, I've got something better than a hidden camera to monitor the nanny's behavior: neighbors and in-laws living close by. And, throughout summer, a niece and a nephew living with us. But still.