She-Devil

I think my daughter is possessed.

What else can explain last night's total meltdown? She had her bath as usual, watched Dora the Explorer (my annoyance with Dora is another post altogether), she said goodnight to Daddy and big brother, we read a couple of short books, sang a few songs, had our cuddles, and I put her in her crib with a "Night, night. Mummy loves you. Fait des beaux rêves", and closed her door.

Twenty seconds later, she is screaming, jumping up and down in the crib, and banging it against the wall. A couple of minutes of this and I go in to check on her. "NO. MUMMY. NO DODO." Sniffle, sniffle. "Bébé, it's time for bed. I love you. GOOD NIGHT," I say firmly in my best Jo-Jo, the Super Nanny voice, and close the door once more.

And then she starts screaming, only this time with feeling. Her tone is quite good - loud and with varying degrees of screeching. The pitch - extreme Mariah Carey-esque highs, an excellent quality. She is crying and half-coughing on her own spit, all the while wailing "M-U-M-M-M-M-E-E-E-E-E!!!!!!" Bang-bang-bang goes the crib and I know, from having seen her do it before, that she has her little hands wrapped against the top rail and she is purposely banging the opposite side of the bed against the wall.

And I'm in the kitchen trying to breathe deeply and decide between a cup of decaf coffee or chugging the Crown Royal.

Take a guess which one I picked.