You know, or maybe she just needs her mom

Kate has never been one to cuddle. Or snuggle. Or sit still long enough to do anything that could even remotely resemble such activity. It hasn’t been a phase; it has been her modus operandi since birth. There have been times that she’s been sick and after multiple trips to her in room in the middle of the night, we’ve brought her into our bed in a desperate attempt to get some sleep. While most parents battle getting kids out of their bed, Kate would spend these times thrashing, rolling, poking jabbing, and informing me that she WANTS TO GO BACK TO HER BED.

Yeah, if you figure this kid out, please feel free to shoot me some insight.

Imagine my shock when Kate developed a raging case of the I.WANT.MY.MOMMY every single moment of every single day. At first I relished my darling daughters newfound affection for me. Awww, she needs me. She wants me. This is what having a sweet and cuddly child is like. However, her requests slowly morphed into this pathetic and whiney, “I want yooooouuuuuu” about ten hundred million times a day. At dinner, she stealthily makes her way onto my chair, burying her head in my lap because “I want yooooouuuuuuu!” A few days ago, she’s whimpering, claiming that she needs me and my patience is wearing thin because she’s on my lap, with her head tucked securely under my chin, so close that I think she’s stealing my oxygen.
This cuddly, needy kid stuff is totally overrated.

The whole situation has been so bizarre, that I’ve started psychoanalyzing the entire situation. Suddenly, I recall stories of pets that instantaneously develop such an attachment to their owners, detecting life threatening tumors and such. Damn 60 minutes. If I die some unexplained death in the near future, someone come and claim this kid. We are sitting on a goldmine.