 |
|||
|
|
|||
|
Gummies, gurgles, and gurus The ear piercing howl of “gummies!” rings through the house. He’s at it again. I put the laundry down and scoop up Scarlett. That boy is going to give me heart trouble. I just know it. My son has escaped the barricade I created to keep him in the room with me while I fold laundry. He is now in the kitchen pantry, a chair under him, and climbing the back rungs. He is desperately reaching for the box of gummy snacks on the top shelf. The look of strain on his face is reminiscent of Indiana Jones reaching for the cup of Christ. You know he’s not going to get it, but he tries just the same. You have to admire that. I put Scarlett on the floor and reach for the boy. He is desperately unhappy about not being able to reach the gummies. I had moved them the day before, but he was not fooled. He looked in the pantry, analyzed the situation, and pulled a MacGyver. He’s three, and he’s good at it. Gurgling in the background is Scarlett, her drool soaked Curious George stuffed monkey dragging on the floor behind her. She is toddling her way to the trash can to take out the used water bottles. She likes to bang those around. I have retrieved Joshua and placed him screaming on the floor. I try to explain, “Joshua, you didn’t eat your breakfast so you can’t have gummies.” I take Scarlett to the playpen with her George in tow and leave Joshua screaming just out of my sight. I feel okay because as long as the kid is screaming, I know he has not moved on to his next trick. This goes on just long enough to get Scarlett into the act. Her gurgles turn into shrill shrieks. This was the desired effect. Joshua thinks I will be distracted by Scarlett and not notice that he has suddenly stopped his outburst and begun moving the chair back into the pantry. I head back to the kitchen where he turns and gives me his best wide eyed pout, “guuuummmmmyyyyyyyys, peeeeeeessssssssss.” He is irresistible, but now my dander is up. “No gummies, no gummies. Not now, not with a cow, not in this house not with a mouse. No you can not have gummies, no, no, no Sam I am!” I actually think this to myself. I offer him eggs, breakfast cereal, a granola bar. A heralded and sharp “No!” resounds to each offer. He is set on gummies. This is the point child rearing gurus say we, as parents, must stick to our guns. I am not sure the gurus have ever heard a head strong three-year-old in the mists of temper. However, I do not relinquish. I hold my own, even though it means I must stop everything else, take him in my arms, and sit with him in front of one of his favorite videos. Joshua doesn’t understand why he can not have the gummies, only that he wants them. I tell myself this over and over again. I have to remember that my son is very much like me. He rarely takes no for an answer and when his heart is set on something, he will stop at nothing to get it. This also means that later in life he will succeed, often in spite of himself. My mother says I was the most stubborn creature God made, including every mule farm in history. I know without a doubt most of my mother’s gray hair is due to my shenanigans as a child. Even my early adult years were riddled with misadventure and daring-do. I wouldn’t change any of it; it makes me who I am. However, my mother very much enjoys watching me try not to pull out my own hair when dealing with the little mirror image I have produced. Thus, the payback for my reckless youth is now trying to raise my son without breaking his spirit or my neck. That gleam in his eye when he is concocting how to get around me is the most frustrating thing I have ever seen as a parent. But as a hard headed go-getter myself, I see the potential for greatness in his cunning. Now Joshua is calmed and we are all ready to get back to the laundry. As we head to the back of the house, Joshua is talking a mile a minute about his video. Scarlett is gurgling once again. Peace seams to be restored. I turn the corner to our room and find both of the dogs have pulled the laundry onto the floor and are rolling in its spring fresh scent. This is another day in Toddler Land. Melissa Fulwider is Mom Writer's Literary Magazine's own Writer’s Resource Editor, as well as a Mom, writer, chief cook and bottle washer. Married with two toddlers, she never runs out of blog fodder. She writes regularly for OcalaCafe’.com and Underwired Magazine. She has contributed to Mommy Mentors web site, conducts The Adland Interviews Series, and is the web master for several sites, including her own (TheWriteTimes.com). Being in her early thirties, she is re-designing her life around kids, chaos, and minor catastrophes. Melissa absorbs trivia, enjoys classical music, and is a tenacious Tetris player.
|
|||
|
