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It's interesting what's been happening over here this past week. Ruthie has discovered the concept of throwing a tantrum and has been seeing what sorts of things she can get away with when throwing one. Not that I knew what I was doing when I brought her little 4 pound body home from the hospital but I at least felt like I couldn't do too much wrong as long as she was fed, warm, and loved. Now we have reached this place where she is not a baby any more. We left babyhood weeks ago and have dived right into toddlerville with such force. It's been both scary and insanely fun. I'm constantly questioning if I react the right way to her little fits wanting to lay the groundwork for the years to come. So far, she hasn't won a single little tantrum (and guys, they are over stuff like needing, desperately needing to go outside and down the street to touch the fire hydrant.) And honestly, they aren't that bad - she cry's a bit, usually throws her body around a bit (which is pretty cute but I try not to smile) and then it's pretty much over if I just redirect her to something else but I'm all, 'should I be saying the word 'no' to her more, should I even address the issue at all and strictly just be redirecting, yada yada yada.' I really, really just don't want to end up with the 2 year old who screams bloody murder at the grocery store because I don't let her have every single Elmo snack she see's. So, for the most part she has been her normal, silly, sweet as can be self - it's just this past week, mix in a little bit of fit throwing and here we are, in this new territory of being the mother of a toddler. Welp, I'm off to go stop said toddler from feeding the dog her cheddar bunnies. TGIF.