Tag: Toddler

Mommy: “Which one do you want? The pink one or the blue one?”

Baby: “No.”

Mommy: “Look how nice they both are…you can have one – the pink or the blue one”

Baby: “Nooooooooo”

This was the scene behind our front door the other morning as we headed out to the playground. Since it’s cold here most of the summer, I was trying to get the little one to choose which coat to wear since not wearing one did not seem like a viable option…it was (or at least felt like) 50 degrees outside.

The “no” went on for some time until she managed to actually choose the pink one. It was funny, too. She just all of a sudden, in the most reasonable tone said, “pink” and let me put it on her. Then she was all excited to get zipped up. Off to the playground we went and I was already exhausted.

At what point is it OK to just let her walk outside and be cold so that she’ll ASK for her coat?!?

photo credit: Lars Plougmann

Ahh, the Wondrous Belly Flop – right on schedule at 2 years of age. As we near Sophie’s 2nd birthday, we’ve been introduced the full throttled, belly on the floor, fists and feet pounding temper tantrum. Good times. Good times.

The tantrums have been happening for a while now, though looking back they paled in comparison. This week she ratcheted it up a notch…lucky me. It can happen at a moment’s notice, too. Like today, we were happily coloring with crayons (oh why didn’t I buy the kind that only write on the special paper?!?) and then she asked for bubbles. I simply asked if she was done coloring and she threw herself out of the chair and melted into the floor, tears cascading down her face down cheeks, screaming. And the pisser is, she was done coloring. We’d been doing it for some time and I made the mistake of asking her a question instead of immediately producing requested bubbles. How dare I?

Then again at dinner…here’s how it went:

Her, “uppy”
Me, “As soon as I finish with the sharp knife.”
Her, “UPPY”
Me, “Yes. As soon as I finish with this sharp knife.”
Her, “UUUPPYYYYYYYYYY” then BAM, on the floor.

I know she’s testing me to see how I react so I’m trying to ignore it. Trying. Please oh please tell me this too will pass…

photo credit: Joe Shlabotnik

At 21 months of age my daughter has begun eating her meals at her own toddler table. Maria Montessori calls this the weaning table and actually advocates introducing it much earlier than 2 years of age, say around 4-8 months old. The table is Montessori’s replacement for the highchair. Her take on the whole table idea is that it allows the child the opportunity to make his or her own decision regarding eating.

Independence of thought/choice is big in Montessori’s world and while I don’t know near enough about the details to discuss it in detail, I do have a post here and here on the Montessori method as it pertains to eating. I am, however, very interested in the big picture philosophy behind her method. My husband and I often fold (or one could say cherry pick) the Montessori method into our parenting style.

As for feeding time, we chose to use a highchair until we were comfortable offering Sophie the option of getting out of her chair on her own. This timing also coincided with food throwing. Really, our decision has been based on whether or not she’s getting enough to eat to sustain her growing body. However, the food throwing was a very large factor as well. I believe it is the international (and inherent) sign for “I’m all done eating this so called food.” I mean, enough with the food throwing already!

So we’ve introduced the toddler table. Sophie can sit at will and get up at will.

Disaster, you might think…but surprisingly, no. The new found independence (and no doubt trust) she feels has emboldened her to remain at her table until she is finished eating. And she actually eats! A lot.

Now, I will qualify this by saying that sitting is a loose term for what she does at the table. There is a fair amount of standing with one leg dangling over the seat, the one butt cheek on and one butt cheek off of the seat form of sitting, and my favorite the my toe is touching the chair so I’m still sitting form of sitting. Ahh, that lesson will have to come in time. Maybe when we introduce table manners.

The table, though, has successfully stopped the food throwing. When she’s done, she simply gets up. What a concept! Now, we’ve dealt with food throwing in the past and have some fairly effective methods for dealing with it while at the grown up table, but so far the toddler table is the best solution we’ve found. Granted, a semblance of toddler maturity is needed (is there such a thing?) to fully pull it off. I’m a big fan of the toddler table…in fact, I find myself sitting at it with Sophie, which makes for fun table time conversations in a language I have yet to master. I’d recommend it highly.

photo credit: ian.schofield

OMG! When thinking about the whole idea of having a second child, my husband and I forgot a number of crucial data points, which, unfortunately, have now reared their ugly heads. First, exhaustion. I mean, our toddler (20 months, now) is so precocious – she’s in to everything.

It’s fun, at times, to catch her studying how a chip clip works for minutes upon minutes, and I realize the wonder that has yet to unfold before her. Then, when she decides to remove each and every item from the pantry while I’m loading the dishwasher, it’s not so fun.

Just when I think I’ve gotten the house straightened up, I turn around to find hurricane Sophie has blown through, leaving bits of paper, stuffed animals and books strewn about. Everywhere. Now, add to that the exhaustion that comes with breeding a baby and you see where things get tough.

I never guessed that toddler-hood would require so much of my waning energy when I thought about getting pregnant. I based my decision on the facts I had at the time – little, docile 14-15 month old teetering from couch to chair back to couch. That was fun to watch, and I could do it sitting down!

Then, let’s address the whole morning sickness cover-up. I mean, the first time I was pregnant I was sick straight through, morning till night. No relief. Of course, on looking back I *remembered* it as being not so bad. When I had to lay down, I did. When I had to take it slow, I did. When I had to run to the bathroom (or pick up the nearest bucket), I did.

Oh oh, not so lucky this time…hormones are a wonderful curse – they cause all sorts of memory loss that, let’s be frank, is the only reason humans have continued to reproduce. If we actually remembered the hell that is pregnancy and childbirth, we, as intelligent, liberated women would NEVER choose to do it again. But, magically, we forget. At least I did.

Now, when I have have to puke (read: all day long) I can’t just lay down and bury my head…I have to *play* with my little one. Granted, no one watching me do this would regard it as playing for either adult or child, more like mild torture for both parties. But, hey, I do my best to at least throw up discreetly into a plastic baggie behind my back.

There is more – trust me – there is more, but full on complaining won’t get me anywhere. Although, a little venting is always good for the soul. Suffice it to say, if I knew then (ok, remembered) what I know now, my daughter would be a happy, well attended only child. That’s not to say I’m not looking forward to this little baby arriving – I am only too happy to get the tiny little thing out of my body and safely in to this world…it’s just that sometimes I wish I could skip the whole pregnancy part.

image credit: wilpf.org