Tickle monster

Chloë has really started enjoying being tickled these last couple of months. She giggles and collapses and then presents herself so we can do it again. And now that she's got words, she's started asking for it. The other day I was tickling her feet, and her ribs, and her armpits. When I stopped she said, "Ticky more?" raising her foot. So of course we did more, until my fingers started to cramp. On a different day I was doing something similar, and then we stopped because we were in the kitchen and I was sorting bills or something. Not long afterward she raised her arm in the air, and I couldn't figure out what she wanted--a high-five? To be picked up? "Use your words," Eric told her. She got annoyed, and eventually said, "Ticky," whereupon I realized she wanted me to tickle under her arm. "I would have done that right away if you'd said it sooner!" I told her, over her giggles.

She likes to tickle me, too--particularly my belly. She's fond of it in general. I've told her that there's a baby inside and when it's big enough it will come out and live with us, and while I'm not sure she really understands that she remembers it. Sometimes she points to my belly and says "baey [belly], baby," and then to hers and says "baby?" I tell her no, there's no baby in her belly. She points to Eric, and I say no, there's no baby in his belly either unless there are at least two significant things he hasn't told me.

This morning she woke up (in her big-girl bed! She's not completely settled in it--witness this morning's four-thirty wakeup--and we haven't moved all her things to the new room, but the transition is going well) and wanted a story, which I flopped back on the bed to read because I'm all creaky and achy when I get up now. When we finished, she pulled up my pajama shirt--well, it wasn't far to pull since it's not a maternity shirt--and started to tickle my belly, saying, "Ticky baby."