The Forgotten Child: A Post About Darcy

Darcy basically dominates my social media. Sometimes I’ll scroll through my own Instagram pictures and after 5 Darcy shots in a row, I’ll think, “Ok, note to self, take a picture of Forrest tomorrow.”

But Forrest has his own recurring series here on the blog, where Darcy gets hardly a mention. In the interest of balance, I present to you today: just Darcy.

Miss Thing is pushing 17 months and is very much on the larger side for her age, yet has hardly any interest in learning to walk (or even standing independently!). She crawls at the speed of light, though, so I guess that’s something.

I have no doubt that she could walk if she would try—she actually seems pretty coordinated to me--but she is terrified at the very idea. Once, just for kicks, I pulled my hands away as I was helping her walk along—she took a steady step before she realized I wasn’t holding onto her anymore then stood stock still, perfectly steady, before shrieking in pure terror and dropping to the ground.

So she can stand, and even took a step on her own, but was horrified by the idea. Plus she doesn’t trust me since that little stunt, and now keeps my fingers in a merciless vice grip whenever we walk along together. Fool me once and all that. She’ll get there.

The intensity of her fear of walking is matched only by the intensity of her love for food (and splashing, judging by the picture above).

If memory serves, she is at the exact age when Forrest’s picky eating habits emerged. Up until roughly 18 months, he was perfectly happy to eat anything I offered him . . . then the tides turned, he decided he hated just about everything, and is only now (at 4 1/2!) barely starting to be willing to try new foods.

Knock on wood, but Darcy hasn’t shown any tendency toward picky eating yet (which is interesting, because I certainly haven’t done anything differently with her than I did with Forrest). She loves just about every food she tries, and is eager to taste it all. 

Favorites include grapes, hot dogs, fruit smoothies, and anything dunked in ketchup—or even just straight ketchup. The only thing she has not cared for so far is mashed potatoes, which is odd, because isn’t that supposed to be a universal childhood favorite? Defying expectations left and right, this girl is—refusing to walk, turning down mashed potatoes, etc.

Also, she absolutely will not drink milk ever since she stopped breastfeeding right after her first birthday. She will angrily reject milk in any and all forms (formula, cow milk, soy milk, even chocolate milk!), and demands watered-down juice instead. According to her pediatrician, this is not unusual for breastfed babies, and as long as she gets calcium elsewhere, it doesn’t matter—thankfully, she loves yogurt and cheese so I’m not concerned about her nutrition or calcium intake, but I still have not adjusted to the idea of a baby not liking milk. It’s baffling.

Darcy is just wild about the pacifier, and even at her gargantuan size, she still prefers the itty bitty newborn size pacifiers. If left to it, she’ll keep that paci in her mouth all the livelong day, removing it only to eat. I’m trying to limit it to bedtime and naptime only, which is not working at all, thank you for asking.

In one more month, she’ll be old enough to go to nursery at church instead of tagging along with Jeff and I, and I predict this change will be disastrous. She is the absolute worst at sharing, hates most other children, and has recently started hitting (she aims for the eyeballs!). I’m sure she will be the most popular child in nursery, if only as the terrorist of the group.

Also, she has not yet realized that the umbilical cord linking her body to mine has, in fact, been severed for quite some time now, and seems to think that she and I must be touching at all times.

Favorite activities include taking baths, eating, winding herself around and between my legs like a cat while I’m trying to cook dinner, reading 2 pages of a book before slamming it shut on my fingers, watching Baby Einstein videos on my phone, pushing little Hot Wheels cars around (accompanied by the most adorable little “rrrrrrrr!!!” noise you’ve ever heard), snuggling with me before she goes to bed, and grunting and gesturing angrily at things she wants.