I know my baby.

The other day Miss Nonie and I were driving out of NYC after a hoopla with Baby Annie Shea.

It was awesome - like a valentine exploded on the two of them...

Heart stickers, face painting, balloons twisted in miraculous valentine's shapes.

These two little girls partied, and then some.

What a fine way to ring in Valentine's Day which also happens to be my sweet goddaughter's bday. I might ad (Thanks you guys!!!)

Needless to say, the two girls were exhausted when the party ended.

While Marky ran (as in, jogged) the length of Manhattan, I zipped the birthday girl and her cute Mama home.

(Yes, that is right ladies, I drove in NYC for the first time in my life and I'm happy to report that I found the experience: enjoyable).

On the way home however, we hit traffic on the WSH and this would be exactly when Nonie lost it. She wailed, she screamed and admittedly, to my mothering ears it was difficult to listen to, but I knew it only meant one thing:

It meant that in less than sixty seconds (*yes, I've timed it*), she will pass from a screaming-her-head-off two-year-old...to a completely-zonked-out-unable-to-lift-her-head-peaceful-sleeping-baby.

And I knew this in my heart so from the front seat I rubbed her leg to let her know I'd be near her during this glorious transition from dog-tired to sleep.

But then a honk, and another honk. (Mind you, we're in traffic on the WSH).

My first thought was: "Are they honking at me?" (There is a little attitude in that sentence in case you didn't catch it. Go ahead, re-read it with a little 'tude)

And then I glance up and see a perfectly coifed couple in their black beamer, slowly idling along my passenger side. The driver (the husband) took his pointer and his middle finger and pointed them too his eyes and then toward my eyes. (Much like the hand gesture in the "circle of trust" that we all know and love so well).

While he hand gestured, he mouthed the words "Watch your baby, she's crying....".

Furious and enraged I thought for a few seconds. I know she's crying. I can HEAR her crying.

I'm in traffic on the WSH and it is my very first time driving into and then out of Manhattan and I have a 2 year-old- wailing in the back seat. As long as she doesn't have to poop (and she didn't), things right now, at least in my book, are perfect. She has her cozy blanket, her strawberry milk, her shoes are off - just the way she likes them when she falls asleep in the car, and her favorite CD is playing...... Plus, she's about to fall asleep, just give her a.....

And damn the circle of trust man in his beamer...damn that he was exiting off the right lane to the George Washington Bridge and couldn't see my baby a mere 20 seconds later 'cause I would have driven right up to his driver's side window and mouthed the words:

"Watch my baby now.... she's sleeping...you A**hole". Because she was (and because he was). And I'd have given him the thumbs up and not the finger cause that is what my big brother told me to always do.

'Cause I know my baby.

Good God sir, after 5+ years of interrupted sleep, mountains of laundry, excessive driving to and fro - I'll admit that I don't know much at this point, but that is all because I do know my baby.

My sweet baby girl.