Here is a comic strip that really nailed it and I have been giggling at it for a while now. It is Baby Blues from May 30, 2010.
This has been the story of most of the last 3.5 years of my life and counting. Elijah has entered the “acrobatic nursing” stage, now that he’s big stuff and can crawl and is starting to cruise. He has 2 top teeth and is cutting a third on the top left. I think there are two cutting on the bottom, but it looks a little odd, so who knows what will show up. He’s saying “Dada” and “Hi Dad” and has finally started saying “Mom,” though I’ve been consoling myself with the fact that he often says “Da” from my arms, so, really, I win. I’m straining to find baby genius here, but he was making short “ha” sounds (as in hat), and he grabbed my hair and it changed to a long “ha,” like “hair.” If I work hard enough, I could probably decode a secret message in his floor pounding, too.
Isaac is enjoying another bout of teething too. Every now and then he pitifully whimpers, “I need mecine for my teef.” Teething tablets are great! He is on the verge of being potty trained. I didn’t think it was going to stick, but I stuck underwear on him again. If I had asked him if he wanted them, he would say no, but when I brought them to his feet, he stepped in without complaint. That was after leaving his diaper off for a few days and letting him watch lots of TV on his training potty. When he woke up with a start the other morning yelling, “I want big boy underwear on!!” in protest to his night time diaper, I figured we were getting somewhere. We’ve even ventured out with just our brave little undies on and only filled our rain boots with urine once. The training process has caused, of course, a bit of a fixation on all things potty, above what already existed. Isaac came into the living room and looked at his dump truck that had some mud on it and blared, “My truck has yucky poop on it! I can smell it!” He and Ian play the I’m Pee, You’re Poop game and battle it out. Or, on evening walks, they squat every hundred feet or so blasting, “Toooooooot!”
Ian has been practicing defiant refusals, negotiations and fake crying. Sometimes he’s baby dad to his little brothers, correcting their “dangerous” behaviors. Last night, he had asked for a bath, but ran off playing and when it was time to crawl in bed, he again asked Brian for a bath. Brian said no and had him lay back down in bed, igniting a grand fit from Ian. After wailing for a while, Ian recounted the situation, “I asked Dad for a bath and he said no, and I cried and cried and Dad pushed me on the bed and said bucket-dipping words and my feelings went down the bathtub drain.” Boy, he can lay it on.