Parental nirvana (fleeting)

So, here is our typical lunchtime exchange:

Sara, are you ready to eat?
Sara gives me a wild-eyed look then makes a break for it. She is still convinced that I won't find her behind the chair, even though I saw her run there.
Sara, come on.
Still behind the chair
[Crossing the room] I'm not going to chase you.
Peeks but still isn't moving.
[Chasing her] Come here.
Keeps her back to the chair and edges to the other side.
[Still chasing her] Sara. Come HERE. I'm NOT chasing you.



So, you get the idea. Eventually she tires of this, begins squealing like some sort of "she-devil," as my sister likes to say, and makes for the dining room. Or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or somewhere. But at least she's not behind the chair anymore, right?

But then today, out of nowhere, It happened: Perfect Behavior.



Sara, are you ready to eat?
She stops what she is doing and looks at me. "Buckets."
[Bracing myself for the chase] No, you don't need your buckets.
She begins stacking all of her buckets, without a single one out of order. She then picks them up and puts them in the big bucket. The lid goes on too. This is all done quickly and quietly. What?!?
Good girl! Let's go eat.
"Beads." She picks up a string of snap-together beads and drops them into a basket. Then she picks up a recorder and puts it into another basket. It rolls out. She tries again. It rolls out again. "Help?"
[I stand slack-jawed. There is a pause before I realize that she has asked me to help her clean up one of her toys.] Help? Yes, yes! I'll help! Let's put it here. Good JOB Sara B! What a BIG GIRL!
She doesn't respond, as she is busy tidying up her overflowing basket of books. Only when she is done does she turn toward the dining room and joyfully cry "Eat!"


OK, so I have no idea what happened. It's like the girl crawled inside my brain, looked up "perfect child," and said to herself -- what the hey? I'll throw the old girl a bone.

After lunch we went upstairs to put on dry pants (hers, not mine). She made a beeline for her crib, which she crawled under and wouldn't vacate until I laid my head down on the changing table for a quick cat-nap. Then she promptly grabbed up every bink and held them behind her back until I pried them out of her sticky little hands. This was followed by loud, long, piercing wails of "BIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNK!!!" that only let up when I put her up on the table for the aforementioned diaper change, and were promptly replaced with kicking and screaming and body contortions that I can only fantasize about. A not-so-gentle reminder, I suppose, that her whims are indeed fleeting.

The ride goes on...