We’re in the middle of the toddler “testing” phase. This means that today I’ve said repeated no’s and disciplined for hitting, pinching, throwing food/fork/plate, putting chalk on the couch and drawing with markers on clothes. There was the one sequestration in the crib for the crying tantrum and then there was the finger dip-and-lick in the potty bowl [major cringe].

All by one o’clock in the afternoon.

God have mercy on me, a mother.

There was once this kid, a blue shirt in a sea of pink. Some big kids thought she was older than she really was because of her long hair and tall, slender body. But really, she was just two, and she kind of got swallowed up in the pink wave.

This kid, she liked to feed the zoo animals. She even fed the llama whose yellow-stained teeth and known spitting habits intimidated the kid’s grownup mama. But then there was this goat. And, ya see, he tried to eat this kid’s hand. Crocodile tears ensued. No one knows if the kid will enjoy feeding the zoo animals again.

Next on Zoo Tales: Injured Butterflies and the Kid Who Loved Them.

A small voice makes its way through the dark room:

“Poop in potty.”

What?! I nearly jump out of my skin in response. I quickly scoop her up and think, here it is, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. The moment where, on her own volition, my two year old truly begins to use the toilet. Forget that it’s bedtime on this sweltering summer night, forget that I’m tired and anxious to pop a movie in the DVD player, forget that homemade blueberry ice cream that awaits me downstairs. We’ve got a kid ready to go poop here!

We leave the quiet room and head for the bright lights of the bathroom. The little potty awaits like a miniature throne in the corner.

She sits.

And sits.

And sits some more.

My quick-draw pooper is sitting and I’m doing all the encouraging things I can. I hold her hands, I sing a few lyrics to the Poopsmith song, I grimace my face in ways only a potty-training mother would dare.

Could it be? Oh no, surely it can’t be. And yet, there she sits still.

The first bedtime stall tactic. Argh.

Just as Zoolander has Blue Steel, Livia has The Dark Look. She’s developed it quite recently and tends to use it if frustrated or simply thinking really hard. I confess, The Dark Look is a bit shocking at first and is simultaneously irksome and funny. Sometimes it takes all my resolve to not laugh at the darkness employed in my little daughter’s face.

This is not a great picture… My camera didn’t even want to focus on the Scowl to End All Scowls.

Listen to your voicemail and look through the following pics to get a good idea of what your granddaughter is up to. (I think the last one portrays the end of the one-sided conversation where I was saying, “Tell them goodbye, Livia,” and she responded with a phone-clutching, “No. NO!”)

Livia-the-Ice-Cream-Lover greatly enjoys a cookie ice cream sandwich after lunch at Grandma and Grandpa’s place. Fortunately for me, she likes her Daddy’s cookie best (heh heh).

Livia-the-Dog-Lover attempts to chase down the family dog, Kira. Fortunately for Kira, the toddler still toddles while the old dog still runs.

Two years ago on Monday, Jeremy and I walked into a split-level home in a typical midwest town and walked out brand new parents of a teeny seven-week old little girl. We will never forget those precious moments when you were first placed in our arms, those first minutes of bonding in our hotel room, the ceremony where we made everything official, the judge’s chambers were we made everything legal, the drive home to meet excited friends and family. Livia, you are special, you are chosen, and you are profoundly loved.

Happy Livia Day to our favorite two-year old!

Dear Livia,

Yesterday you sucked the heck out of a brown marker. I only know this because you got awfully quiet while coloring so I came around the corner and noticed your mouth full of BROWN SALIVA. Such a copious amount of brown could only be in your mouth if you sucked the thing to death. I was not pleased. But of course I had to get the camera before scolding you properly (and then rinsing your teeth clean).

It’s nice to know that Livia really truly thinks about things.

I went into her room a few minutes ago to pick her up after a nap and she said, “Sun down?” while pointing around her room.

“No, it’s still up,” I said, tugging on her room-darkening shades and twisting the mini-blinds open. “The sun is still out.”

She blinked in the brightness and nodded in affirmation. And I thought, Mission accomplished, room-darkening shades!