Friday, August 13, 2010


I will never get used to how mercurial toddlers can be.

Though at this point, there is nothing toddle-y about the way Zeke gets around.  The other night he sprinted around the block and J - who is an astounding athlete with the lung capacity of Lance Armstrong (seriously, his resting heart rate is 45 or something ridiculous like that) - could barely keep up with him.


He's going through a whiney cry-y phase.  Which I guess is normal for two-year-olds, but it annoys the shit out of me.  He can't ask for a glass of chocolate milk without it being all, "Mamaaaaa....I want choooocolaaaate miiiiilk.. eeeh eeeeh ... I waaaaant..."

I try to resist the urge to throw him out the window and I say, "Zeke.  Please.  Stop whining.  Stop crying.  There is nothing to fuss about.  If you want some chocolate milk, just ask nicely.  'May I please have some chocolate milk?'  And I'll be happy to get it for you."

"Eeeeeh...eeeeeh...chocolate miiiiiiiilk..."

"I can't understand you when you fuss like that.  Stop crying and just talk."

He immediately stops whining, gets the tortured look off his face, and asks, clear as a bell, "may I have some chocolate milk please?"

"Of course."

Fer fuck's sake...

I go through this scenario multiple times a day.

Last night we went for a walk around the neighborhood after dinner.  We got home at about 10 after 8, at which point Josie was practically nodding off in her stroller.  Plus, it was starting to get dark.

Zeke lost his shit.

"I want to go outside...I waaant to go outsiiiiiiide!  Aaaaaaaaaah!  WAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"No, honey.  It's time to come inside and chill out and get ready for bed."



He kept trying to get at the door to open it.  I stood in front of it.



This went on for 10 minutes.  We finally distracted him with an episode of Dora the Explorer.

A little while later, he lost his shit again when he had to go to bed.


"No, honey.  No chocolate milk before bed.  It's time to go to sleep."

It seriously took me 15 minutes to calm him down.  He was completely despondent, crying his little eyes out.  He sobbed and sobbed, immune to my efforts to comfort him.

I brought him into bed with me, hoping I could calm him down by hugging him and letting him rest his head on my shoulder.

I was trying everything -- shushing him, holding him, rubbing his hair and his back, rocking him, trying to distract him with efforts at conversation.

Then, abruptly, he stopped crying all of a sudden and wanted to talk.

"Let's talk, Mama."  He's all chirpy and sweet.

"OK, honey."

"I want to go to the mountains."

"We're going to go to the mountains on Saturday.  Not tomorrow, but the day after.  We're going to go see a bike race.  Isn't that cool?"



"I want to go to the river."

"We can go see a river and throw rocks in it."

"Is it very far away?"

"No, honey, it's not too far away.  We can drive to the mountains, it's not too far."

"Mimi and Papa live very far away."

"Yes, they do."

"We have to fly on an airplane to see them."


"I want to see them.  I want to see Papa first and Mimi next."

"Well, we're going to go see them in a couple of months."

"I want to go to the river."

"We're going to go the day after tomorrow."

"When it's morning?"

"Yes.  Not tomorrow morning, but the next morning."

"Then we should go to sleep so that it's morning soon."

"Ok, sweetie.  Let's go to sleep."

"Shh!  Stop talking, Mama, it's time to go to sleep!"

Good idea, son.  If only I had thought of that.....

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