Not even five minutes ago, I made a late-night trip to a city two hours away from my own to be with my daughter’s mother as she delivered her second baby.
Of course I didn’t get attached to that baby. He wasn’t going to be my baby; I was just there to lend moral support to his mother, as none of her other friends or family were able to be with her, not even the baby’s father.
I didn’t want to get attached, not even when she handed him off to me moments after the delivery so that she could have both hands free to phone her current paramour. I didn’t want to get attached but I did, even in those first few minutes of looking down at his pointy chin and big blue eyes.
All this happened not even five minutes ago, but time has passed so quickly that now he runs around (he never walks) chortling, “I duuuu!” at the top of his lungs. He asks “Bir-day na-yow?” all the bleedin’ time, even though we’ve told him to the point of exhaustion that his next birthday will not come ’round again for a LONG LONG time, so please dry up about it!
When he’s not speaking of bir-days, he tries to use the potty just like his sister, who is currently deep in the throes of toilet learning. He’d dearly love to be given permission to cavort naked, and he’d especially dearly love to be rewarded with chocolate chips as she is when she produces.
I believe he’d love even more than nudity or chocolate to be allowed into the bathroom with us as we do that pee-n-poo voodoo which terrifies the girl (even now she’s a wee bit claustrophobic) and fascinates him. Each of the forty-seven times a day that she squeezes out a few droplets of pee (she’s proficient at maximizing her chip-to-pee earnings), he storms the door while she hangs back in fear of entering that confined place where the noisy toilet lurks.
Any time he succeeds, he jumps about in glee, cracking his head on the sink more often than not. When he fails, he bangs his head on the closed door and shrieks in frustrated rage.
When we emerge from the bathroom bearing the newly-cleaned plastic potty, he snatches it from our hands and runs off, wearing it as a hat. This enrages the potty’s owner; she chases after him so as to deliver a sharp rap to his plastic-helmed head.
My boy seems to be the missing link between head trauma and toilet training; this fact adds just a touch more excitement (and class!) to our everyday routine.
His every action, I believe, is an imitation of his older sisters, who influence him in ways good and bad. They’ve given him his current favorite song, of which I heartily although silently disapprove as he sings it while assembling wobbly block towers.
Under their tutelage, he adores dressing up in skirts and pretend high-heel shoes while I ineffectually try to convince his grandmother that doing so will not, most likely, cause him to become gay. Or a cross-dresser.
The eldest child has now passed down her imaginary friend through the other children, a feat that strikes me with wonder and awe. How does one convince one’s younger siblings of the presence of a huge purplish-orange dragon? How does this happen? And is it possible that the dragon exists in more than just a triad of overactive imaginations? Do I simply lack the necessary whimsy to see this creature who seems to live in my house?
I’m so glad I made that trip. I’m so glad I got attached. Even though I get nothing done but breaking up tussles over potty ownership and who should sit closest to the dragon, I’m blessed to have this little boy in my life.
wouldn’t your daughter’s mother be YOU?
I’m one of her mothers…
:)
I so loved when my two were at that age, it was fun. I didn’t think so then. But now, looking back through my romantic rose colored glasses, I really miss those years. Thanks for the reminders.
Bir-day… indeed :D
DaNewb
Would it make you feel better or worse to know that I, a 23yo college student, ADORE that song, and have friends who do too?
ADORE
I will sing that song at any given point in the day. I share it with anyone around me. I’ve made my crush giggle deliciously with that song.
Just don’t EVER let those kids hear crazy frog. EVER.
But…he’s two! Wtf does he need to know about fish heads?????
More years ago than I care to remember, my housemate and I would chase our children around and sing that song to them everytime we fixed fish for dinner….
hmmmmm, maybe they have a point when they say I am the reason they are warped. *grin*
Good thing my kids were in bed…that would be the last song I would need them to know lol. Though maybe I will play it for them tomorrow…brings back memories of high school and fridays. They always played that one on fridays on my favorite radio station lol.
My brother was always a bit ‘girly’ in hs interests. He used to push a doll around in a little pram at times – not sure what the American for ‘pram’ is ;o) At the time (I was only two years older) it didn’t seem all that odd to me and as far as I recall I made nothing of it because Mum didn’t either.
She was always non-judgmental about this side of him, which is probably why, when he finally decided in his mid-20s that it was time to come out, he had few problems in talking to her. And she, bless her, accepted his partner as a member of the family.
You’re right not to make a big deal about your little one dressing up, not least because all he might be doing is aping the most important people in his life :o)
2-year-olds sooo have the OOOOO factor – their eyes and mouth constantly round with wonderment with every new thing. And boys are great – you never have to think what do so with them. They always have an idea. AND off they go.
I love to read heart-warming stories about other’s children. You almost make me want to become a grandmother. Almost.
Hey! That was my son’s favorite song at a very young age, too! (That, and lots of DEVO.)
Devo? Ohhhhh no!
Amazing how they pick you. It’s like they KNOW.
he sounds so sweet. i want.
“Not five minutes ago…” – I’m smiling because I can relate so closely to that feeling.
Five minutes from now – his first sports game
Five minutes from then – he does his homework without your help.
Five minutes after that – you have to give his sex talk – go easy on him ;)
Five minutes later – you interview for high schools
I’ll see you in twenty minutes.
My dad used to make all the clothes for his younger sister’s doll, and he grew up to design clothes and make the patterns. Thank goodness his parents didn’t find it that unusual, and this was in the 20′s.
all this post makes me want to say is:
awww yeah!
one of my cousin’s boys, at about age 4, asked one of my girls, then 5, if he could borrow one of her toy purses. he was quite taken with it’s white vinyl shiny proportions of long skinny strap to small squarish purse. it hung to his hip. it seemed to be just what he needed in some way for the next little while. of course, he could borrow it. as they were piling into the van, his mother remarked, “son, that is one pretty purse you’ve got there.” to which he remarked, indignant, “mom, i’m a boy! it’s handsome!”
And he is blessed to have you, too. Fun how that works.
loved the “chip to pee” ratio.
Kids are great, aren’t they? All curiosity and no corruption. And so damn willful!
Sounds like you enjoy yours as much as I enjoyed mine. Well, I still enjoy them, it’s just they were born about 45 minutes ago and have their own lives now.
I tagged you…but dont really expect you to play. Love your blog :)
Such a cute post. Thank you for sharing :)
Chip-to-pee Earnings? :) God that cracks me up!
I’d love to hear that Cramer guy on that Mad Money show talk about CTP Earnings! :)
Thanks for the laugh, AAG! :)
I try.
Thank you DH.
:)
okay, maybe it’s because I’m not a Mom and haven’t had to potty train someone, but why do you have to shut the bathroom door? Couldn’t the littlest one watch and perhaps get more of a clue? And wouldn’t that calm down the one on the potty from her claustrophobia?
Or am I being dense?
Well let me tell you a little story, friend.
The other day, I washed out but didn’t completely dry the plastic potty seat.
Wanna guess what I found the littlest one doing not 2 minutes later, lurking down the hallway?
Oh yeah. You guessed it. He was DRINKING THE EXCESS WATER out of the potty seat.
This, in a nutshell, is why he’s not allowed in the bathroom with us.
:)
Somehow I was under the impression you had more than three children. Perhaps because of the high level of energy of the two youngest. :-)
I like reading about your family.