She claps when she masters a feat. She claps at the end of an especially profound diaper changing. She claps at the end of "Twinkle, Twinkle" (every single time).
Mostly, though, she has a Pavlovian clapping response to the words "Good job!"
So. Today we were at her 15 month doctor's appointment. We found out she is still very tall, she knows a good amount of words, and it's okay that she only likes orange foods but we should continue to introduce other flavors from the rainbow.
Then came the shots: One in the chubby little right thigh, two in the chubby little left. She did a pre-howl while the nurse cleaned her skin and gave a full-on molar show after the first needle poke. It doubled with the second shot, but stayed steady with the third.
I hugged her close as the nurse stuck Tasmanian Devil band-aids over her shot holes. I rocked and cooed "Good job, baby girl. You did a good job."
So there she was, real-live tears streaming down her face ... clapping. My poor heart. Annihilated.