Wednesday, July 27

What's New with Doodles

You know how in movies they often parody parenthood by showing an out-of-control toddler tearing a place up as the parent runs helplessly behind, trying to grab the child while at the same time repairing the mess he's made and prevent him from hurting himself? Well, turns out there's no parody involved there; it's simply reality TV! On Saturday, we made a trip to Target for various items, and we decided to let Doodles walk ("decided" being used loosely here; he refused to remain seated in the cart and he can now climb out of his stroller). Well, he had a blast. He began tearing up and down the aisles at top speed while Adam chased him trying to catch him. At one point, he was down one aisle, standing by two thin tallish boxes. We could see him from the end, but couldn't get to him quickly enough. I shouted, "Doodles, leave the boxes alone! No touch the boxes!" and Adam yelled, "Doodles, don't you dare!" Doodles gave us one of his adorable grins, looked us squarely in the eyes, and yanked the boxes over, barely missing himself in the process. Then, with a "That's funny!" he laughed and took off again. We ended up quickly leaving, with a wriggling, screaming Doodles under Adam's arm (in a football hold), yelling, "Walk! Down! Down! Walk!" We got many sympathetic looks from other parents as I reminded Doodles that walking is a privilege, not a right, and so far, he hasn't earned it.

Adam describes Doodles's tantrums as an Incredible Hulk thing. One minute, the kid is serene and all is right in the world. He'll be playing, things are fine. And then, wham!. The Hulk emerges. Like this morning. He wanted to play with his potty. He doesn't use it yet for it's intended purpose, but he likes to just goof around with it. We brought it into the living room for him to use. "Potty outside!" he demanded. "You want to take the potty outside?" we asked. "Yes! Potty outside." "Sweetie," I told him, "the potty doesn't go outside. We keep it inside." The flash of anger was instantaneous. You could see the anger exploding. "No! No! No!" he yelled as suddenly the potty is flying across the living room. He's pulling out the bowl, flinging the lid. "No, no, no!" He's yelling and starting to cry. "Potty outside!!" After a few moments of this, his finger goes in his mouth, another finger goes to his belly button, and he's calm again. The Hulk subsides... for now.

This is one of those stories that I debated blogging about, but it seems we're entering a new era with Doodles, so I simply have to relate it. This morning, I was, um, indisposed. Doodles, with the subtlety of a bull, comes charging into the bathroom. He walks up to me and yanks down farther my pants and underwear. "Momma's p*enis?" he asks, taking a good look. I thought for a moment, and decided there was no point in avoiding the conversation. "Daddy has a p*enis and Doodles has a p*enis. Mommy has a v*agina." Satisfied, he walked away saying, "Mommy's 'gina. Mommy's 'gina." Why do I have a feeling this conversation is going to come back to haunt me?

1 Comments:

Blogger RUbirdie said...

That makes me smile!
I am glad I'm not the only one going through the whole *gina* *enis* thing. My girls know what WE but dealing with the dad thing is soooo different when you have two girls!

12:20 AM  

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