Squid is THREE. Like, officially, totally, cake-and-presents three. Kiddo!
I was gone for a week this month, and it seems to have cured him entirely of the most recent Mommy-only phase. He is letting Daddy read to him and put him to bed and everything. The tradeoff appears to have been a phase of bad behavior, mostly directed toward me, involving throwing, spitting, and hitting. But even that is well within normal toddler bounds - most of the time, he's his usual sunny self. The evenings have been really nice - one of us reading to him or playing while the other cleans or cooks dinner.
He's so articulate. The Bumble teacher at preschool says he's the only kid in his age group she can actually have a conversation with. He charmed the doctor by knowing what her stethoscope was and learning the name of the odoscope and remembering it. There are dangers to this - we have to watch our language around him more than ever, because he isn't just repeating, he's remembering things and incorporating them into his vocabulary. He looked at the pasta water last night - "Is it boiling?" he asked. I don't even know where he learned "boiling." I can't remember ever discussing it with him. He's not in the "why" stage yet; most of his queries involve reaffirming his sense of reality. "Is it boiling?" "Is it called a fire truck?" "Did you say 'argh?'" "Is Grandpa not here?" But there are still a
lot of queries, and if they don't get answered, they get repeated, over and over and over. I can't tell you how many times today he asked me if it was raining - while looking out the window at the rain.
He looks a lot like his Daddy, and early personality traits were closer to Himself, in terms of focus and independence. But some of me is definitely starting to come out. This is a conversation we had a few weekends ago that is not atypical:
Me (going stir-crazy): Let's go out! Do you want to go to the park?
Squid: I don't like to go to the park!
Me: Well, then, what do you want to do?
Squid: Stay home.
Me: And do what?
Squid (exasperated): Just stay at home!
He likes to veg on the couch and read books and watch TV. It's kind of sad, to see your less-delightful personality traits passed on; I wanted him to get only the good stuff - my curiosity, my pragmatism, my caring for others, my sense of place in the world, my physical health, my craftiness. Not my sloth, my mental health, my risk aversion, my soft tooth enamel, or my dilettantism. If I had to pick one of us, I'd rather the Squid take after Himself, who is very competent, self-contained, active, and focused. I hope his recent homebody couch-potatoing and crankiness are just a phase, and not a genetic legacy.
This is the only photo I have of him this month other than the cakespam. Now that I have to take my own photos, it's harder to get good ones! This was taken at the bird preserve near my aunt's in Huntington Beach - we went out for a walk, and my irrepressible relatives insisted in encouraging the Squid in throwing rocks. Thank God, not at the birds. The outing ended in pouting and throwing himself to the ground and refusing to go any further - as most of our outings do these days - but it was fun while it lasted.I, like all parents of toddlers, am Cassandra, predicting doom unheard and unheeded by those who press on to meet their fate. "If you throw that, you will lose it." "Hitting me will get you a time out." "If you don't let me change your diaper, you will get a rash." "There will be no dessert if you don't eat the carrots." I can say it all I want, but he needs to discover it for himself, apparently. And then he is sad, but it is too late. We've started instituting instant consequences for the more egregious infractions - hitting and spitting get a time out on the spot - and to throw a toy is to lose it for a full day. Legos left on the floor are instantly lost. I feel sad for him - it
is hard to behave well, especially when you're frustrated, and three-year-olds have so little impulse control - but everyone's got to learn it sometime.
He dreams now. Several times in the last month, he's woken in the middle of the night screaming in terror. "I thought I lost you!" he sobbed into my neck, the first time it happened. After a really bad dream, it takes him forever to calm down, so we'll go read a book and cuddle and sometimes watch a movie until he starts to droop again. We've tried just a cuddle in the dark and back in bed - doesn't work. We've tried bringing him into bed with us - doesn't work. We've tried letting him cry it out (not for the really bad dreams, but for middle-of-the-night-wahs that are less serious) and that works sometimes. If anyone has any other suggestions, I would welcome them, because our current approach has drawbacks of its own.
Namely, he now expects that if he gets up in the middle of the night he will be able to read books and watch movies and hang out in the living room. A few weeks ago, he woke up at 1:30 a.m. and
would not go back down. First he said it was a bad dream, that he lost Mommy's car and it drove off without him. So I soothed him and took him out to see that my car was still in the driveway. Then he needed milk. Then he wanted a book...at which point, I realized he was stalling, and put him back down. He yowled until his Daddy got up with him, and repeated a similar series of complaints - his ear hurt, he was too sad, he needed to watch a movie, etc. Back down. More screaming. He worked himself up into snotty, gasping hysterics, and by the time I went in to get him again he was crying and could barely even speak through his tears. "I need to go to the doctor!" he told me tearfully. "I have a boo boo in my ear! It hurts!" I had taken him to the doctor to check for ear infection a few days before and she had cleared him, but they can develop fast. I instantly felt horribly guilty. Had we been misunderstanding? Was something really wrong? Was he in pain? I got him up and fed him Tylenol and let him watch YouTube.
In retrospect, I think I got gamed. He said he felt "all better" way before the medication should have kicked in, and didn't complain about his ear again even long after it should have worn off. He played cheerfully while I zombied around the house, and after I took him to pre-school (where he had a fine day and did not complain about his ear). But there was no way to tell. I had to sleep for another three and a half hours and call in sick to work. Between him and the elderly spaniel, who has developed a fixation with the bathroom door in the master bedroom, and gets up several times a night to bang on it until I wake up, there is just not enough sleep to be had. And I need a lot of sleep.
Speaking of which...good night!
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