I'll tell her to hide, she'll run off (presumably to hide) and then I count to ten. As soon as I shout, "Ready or not, here I come!" Mazzy starts squealing, runs right out of whatever "hiding space" she was in and screams, "HERE I AM!" as she greets me in the hallway.
EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME.
I tell her to stay hidden until I find her but that doesn't seem to be a concept she is able to grasp. I've tried not yelling, "Here I come!" but that doesn't seem to stop her from revealing herself either.
When I hide, on the other hand, it is a lot of fun. There aren't a lot of places a grown woman can go in a NYC apartment— it's pretty much my closet, the shower or if I'm feeling really inspired, crouched behind the glider chair in her room.
Mazzy always finds me easily, squealing with a delight that I can only pretend to understand and never seems to get tired of the game.
On a scale of "shape sorting cube" to "bouncy castle", "hide and seek" is pretty close to the latter.
Over the weekend, a tech-savvy dad posted a video of his two-year-old daughter playing hide and seek while wearing a head-cam.
The result is quite possibly the closest I've ever come to understanding what goes on in my toddler's head.
It is truly fascinating to watch. Oddly suspenseful, joyous and sad all at once.
For the parents reading (which is probably everyone except my sister), I feel I must tell you that the little girl takes a spill in the bathroom at one point.
You know you're a parent, when your first reaction to a fall heard and not seen, is that the poor child just got strangled and suffocated by the shower curtain.
Longest .05 seconds of my life.
Relax. She's fine. Enjoy.