"We're going to a farm," I told her. "Do you know what's on a farm?"
"Anna and Elsa," she answered, a finger stuck in her cheek, her brain forever stuck in Arendelle.
"Nope," I said. "Probably not the cast of 'Frozen.' Guess again."
I'm not really sure what's on the farm we're visiting with her class from Baby School, but I took a few safe guesses that included cows, horses, pigs and agreed with her about the cat.
We did one more round of "Ta-DAH!" and she scooted off to put on her pajamas with zero complaint. There were a few stalls once we got to her room. She did her Norwegian diaper dance, for instance, but skipped her usual bucking and choke hold reenactment of "The Exorcism" during the diaper change.
"What a pleasant toddler," I almost thought.
I zipped her into her pajamas and she skipped off to the bedroom door -- and then came to the Doc Marten to the guts: She thought we were going to the farm tonight. I realized this about the time she realized that we weren't going to the farm tonight. And, Oof. Tough call on who felt worse.
If you'd looked in her bedroom window you would have had a doctor's eye view of a red-faced toddler's uvula and her desperately sad mother hunched in a pink chair.
I solved this, kind of, by showing her a video of Super Grover 2.0 and when it was over I asked if she was still mad at me.
"Sad," she said.
I laid next to her bed and rubbed her back for a bit, but by then she had shifted to something complicated and teenage-y.
"Leave," she said, segueing into emotional manipulation.
Then I felt better.
Anyway, this is all just to say that I LEARNED SO MUCH TODAY.
Lesson 3,956: Let everything always be a surprise.