We left baby Chloe (19 months) with Grandma and Grandma and took our two oldest on a boat lover’s adventure for a couple of days.

I spent more time explaining the baby’s devious tendencies towards a break, slowly moving away from the watchful eyes of her caregivers before bursting into a full on sprint, making any chase a near impossibility for the pursuer. Leaning heavily in her favour for an escape ending in victory, despite her exceptionally short legs, I thought perhaps she would eye up her willing opponents and devise a plan from her pack ‘n play sensing a two day window was ample time to bring it to fruition.

I feared she would grimace at them, push aside food they had spent time preparing, toss her blankets, pillow, mattress, ketchup, mustard, relish and do unthinkable things in their bathtub.

I agonized over the time she picked up a marker, removed the lid and quietly sat drawing on our tile floor as though we had placed a blank canvass and the words, “baby draw here” in front of her.

I worried they would never agree to watch her again having witnessed how draining, challenging, mischievous she can be and if she works herself into a tantrum, it’s best they just pack up and leave town for a while.

I thought she might not forgive us for choosing to take her older sisters, leaving her without her playmates and all of the social activity she had grown accustomed.

Would her eyes be red and raw from wiping away countless tears, nose drained of tissue after booger-filled tissue from that sick feeling left in the pit of her stomach?

Nope.

When I finally snuck in to pick her up from her nap (a couple of minutes early as I just couldn’t wait any longer to have those little arms wrap around my neck and have her giggle at the series of raspberries moments away from landing on her belly, she made no acknowledgement toward the door opening, my voice, my face, my presence at all.

She pointed at the ceiling fan and said, “fan” which might seem exciting if she hadn’t said the word fan several hundred times in her life already. She was also well aware I would be hard pressed to mistake “fan” for “Mama” or “I love you” and that seemed to bring her some cruel satisfaction.  She refused my hug but not in an angry way, in an indifferent way, the worst kind of hug refusal. Get thee to a snubbery– –noted.

Grandma and Grandpa regaled us with tales of the best behaved baby they had ever had the privilege of watching. She did nothing but laugh eat everything that was served, slept better than any baby throughout history had ever slept.

Chloe has a new toy frog she adorably carries with her everywhere. She enjoys long walks on the beach, thoughtful conversations and the odd informed yet engaging debate about whether to ride on the driver’s side or passenger bench on the Kidmobile. She lies perfectly still during a routine diaper change, she smiles at strangers, tells hilarious (yet slightly off-colour jokes), laughs with delight at just the thought of someone pinching her cheeks, understands how to tape a t.v. show while watching another and makes a killer margarita.

Hmmm.

If it isn’t obvious to Greg, it certainly is to the rest of us.

Our real baby escaped….just as I had predicted.