Gravity

It’s bath time at the Simon household and Zoe has invented a new game for herself called Throw Each Bath Toy Over the Edge of the Bathtub One by One and Then Spend the Rest of Bath Time Leaning Over the Side and Straining to Pick Them Back Up.

I mean, shoot, baby girl, if you want to experience the human capacity for fruitless redundancy just get a job at Buzzfeed for goodness sake. But there’s no need to torture yourself with bath toys.

After she finally picks up all the toys, she then likes to play a game called AGAIN!! Over the edge they go.

She does the same thing with food. If I hand her a piece of food, she absolutely MUST drop it on the floor and roll it around in whatever muck is available prior to picking it up again and finally– if we’re lucky– eating it. I think her liver would go into shock if each morsel didn’t come prepared with the requisite amount of dirt, sand, etc. I’ve half a mind to start feeding her by just leaving veggies strewn across the floor. Even then she’d have to pick them up, drop them, pick them up and then eat.

The only thing I can garner from her self-imposed Sisyphean tasks is that sometimes we all have to ingest a certain amount of shit before we’ll finally learn the lesson at hand. For Zoe this is more literal. Ahh so food is for eating. Oh so bath toys go in the bath. When I drop things, they fall.

Or for me: so when I’m angry, I’m unhappy. When I blame others, I’m unhappy. Or when you try to leave the house with a baby, it ALWAYS takes at least 20 minutes.

The law of gravity doesn’t change no matter how many times Zoe tests it and the law of happiness doesn’t change no matter how many times I forget it.

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