In perusing some of the posts I’ve made over the last 11 months, I realized that I may have given you the wrong impression of R. Like Mallory once feared, I am concerned that you might think I believe her to be the perfect child. Or that she never misbehaves and is never angry, grumpy, unreasonable, petulant, crabby, bossy, sassy or bratty.
This is not the case.
R has her foibles, her quirks, her moods. For example, food is almost always an issue with her. Lately, she wants me to hold her while we stand in front of the pantry and I list off all of the snacks available to her. She refuses each one, her voice quivering more with each option, inching closer and closer to a tantrum as nothing (not cheetos, not Goldfish crackers, not an apple, not a banana, not crackers, not Cheerios, not raisins, not applesauce, not Dora fruit snacks) fits her fancy. But if I dare to close the pantry door or move away from it, the tantrum begins full force. Yesterday, I sat her on a chair in front of the open door and just let her look inside to her hearts content. I made dinner.
We’ve been trying to work with her on saying “please” and “thank you.” Usually she is pretty good about it, but lately she’s decided that if she doesn’t want to say please, she’s not going to, and you sure as hell better give her whatever she wants anyway. Because if not, she’s going to throw herself into a puddle on the floor in Babies R Us and scream so loud that a salesgirl rushes to ask you if she can help you with anything. Meaning, get that kid off the floor and out of the store, you’re scaring the pregnant women from registering for more useless crap like expensive bibs with cute sayings like ‘Spit happens.’
She hates having her diaper changed, screaming “pants on” or “Doras on” or “Pooh on” (for her Dora the Explorer and Winnie-the-Pooh pajamas) throughout. This is especially fun in a public restroom.
She went through a hitting stage (which thankfully wasn’t a biting stage) that retreated for awhile, but seems to be coming back with a vengeance. She’s started calling her father by his first name on occasion (only encouraged by my riotous laughter, I’m sure). If she wants something (blanket, baby doll, juice, an opened toy box or a light turned on), she wants it NOW, not in the time it takes to retrieve said item from wherever it may be or complete the task.
In short, she’s a regular kid. But she’s mine. And that does make her special.