Aiden, Nursery & Gravity

The title says it all, right? Today Brian took Aiden into the church nursery a few weeks early to start getting him used to it. (How can my baby already be coming up on 18 months?!!!) Any ways, after play time in nursery they sit the children down for a snack, have them fold their arms for a prayer and then pass out a treat with little paper dixie cups of water before they clean up for coloring time.

Aiden watched with obvious admiration as a few of the other boys whooped and hollered when it was time for snacks and even joined in with a bit of paper towel throwing. When snacks were passed out he politely ate his and picked up the new word "MINE" from his tablemates.

I should add that the rest of the afternoon he spent practicing the word, insisting that every book and toy was 'mine'. We didn't argue with him because it's true. They really are his. We're hoping this word won't stick but it seems to be a rite of toddlerhood passage and I'm sure it will soon be followed by shoves to playmates to prove his 90th percentile size MAKES the toys his. Oh, and that's not all he picked up in nursery today. Brian and I exchanged a look of horror when he followed one statement with "Why?"

Back to snack time. I watched in calm silence as Aiden was initiated into nursery by pouring the contents of his much-too-full dixie cup straight into his lap and I smiled politely when told that all the new kids do it. This cup was immediately replaced with another half as full and he actually seemed to get some of the water into his mouth before finishing the impromptu baptism with a splash down the front of his shirt. I'll skip the Gymboree outfit and send him to church in a swim suit next week for round two of the initiation. Maybe I'll pack a towel, too, so he doesn't have to drip-dry during coloring time.

I slipped back out of nursery and met up with Brian after church to find Aiden's best blue polo covered in red dribble stains. Brian informed me that he ate a red crayon in the one nanosecond he wasn't watching him and we have some things to practice at home. (Shame on me for buying the more expensive twistables crayons that are all plastic and difficult to eat...)

This afternoon I moved his little table from the playroom to the kitchen so we can practice sitting on a chair at a table, not throwing our paper towels (too much) and not insisting that our neighbor's snacks are "mine" no matter how insistent they are that your snacks are theirs. We also practiced folding our arms and trying to be quieter for prayers. We haven't really pushed Aiden do this before, we just insist he sit in our lap and try to keep him quiet as prayers are said. Tonight he quickly picked up on the "fun" arm-folding trick I was trying to show him. He beamed up at me, balled his little hands into fists and slammed his knuckels together in a move mildly reminiscent of something I've seen martial art fighters do before they bow to an opponent. He's such a comedian I couldn't help but laugh aloud! So long as he's not injuring his neighbors in nursery I'm sure no one will mind his Zen prayer posture.

Back to the table. Twice he fell off the chair and once he pulled the table over on top of himself AND fell out of his chair at the same time. (Those must be my genes at work.) Luckily Ikea children's furniture is nothing more than bolted-together dowel rods and painted white refrigerator box pieces so he wasn't injured, just frightened. He now approaches the table with caution, telling it "no no" as he sits down, as if it will tackle him to the ground at any minute.

I'm anxious to see how this week goes. I'm planning on practicing prayers at several random times (like fire drills) so we can work on his thai chi arm folding and reverence while digging through my parenting books for new ideas on how to handle this "mine" thing he's picked up. I'll admit I'm a little worried that nursery will turn my busy-but-sweet-hearted little boy into a non-stop-terror of a toddler but I know that he'll have fun. It will be a great way for me to learn how to be a playful parent and if nothing else, I'll learn to relax. I am the mother of a boy and I swear, they put you through so much that whether you like it or not, you learn to be cool!

Aiden Stories

How difficult could a seventeen month-old be, right? Let me tell you about last Friday.

Everything was going well. I'd somehow managed to vacuum my house every single day last week and had just put the vacuum away and gotten Aiden a snack. I'd found the new Cheerios snack mix on sale at HEB and I had a coupon so we picked up a bag. Once we were home, he'd zeroed right in on the new treat and wanted it. I gave him a small serving in one of his little plastic bowls and he was munching happily in the living room while I put away the rest of the groceries.

I heard the familiar sound of snacks hitting the tile followed by a sweet little "uh-oh". Before I could groan about my freshly-vacuumed floors I heard Major coming down the hall from our bedroom to vacuum them up himself. Then several things happened at once. Aiden was holding his little plastic golf club and snack bowl when, in a moment of random bliss and glee, let out a series of whoops and shouts as he ran towards the playroom swinging the putter like a caveman. Major, who was standing between Aiden and his bee-line to the playroom, had been staring so intently at the dropped snack mix that he didn't see Aiden coming at him...

I'm standing in front of the pantry, frozen, seeing my precious son, the massive doberman and Major's fixed gaze on the food all around them. I could feel my muscles tense and the adrenaline rush hit about the same time as the snarl in my throat. (That's how we communicate "no" to Major without confusing or frightening Aiden. Heck, even Aiden growls now.) I'm scolding myself for not making sure Major was locked in our bedroom while Aiden was awake and now I'm worried Aiden will get knocked down when Major makes a move for his spilled food. I have no idea how dogs can move so much faster than we can...

Major looks up from the prized snack mix to see a club-waving, screaming banshee coming at him and panics. He turns to his right to escape but is standing too close to the wall to complete his turn. Instead he goes completely vertical, stands up with paws on the wall, pushes off to turn around and hits the ground running in the opposite direction. In the middle of this maneuver I hear the *CRUNCH* and CRASH of plastic and I see Aiden skid to a stunned stop. By this time I've reached him and scooped him up, still anticipating he would be knocked over by the hairy hoover, and then I see what broke:



Major had hit the wall outlet in the hall with his knee, knocking the HUGE childproof double outlet cover off, breaking the faceplate and jamming the outlet back into the wall. See the drywall damage? Luckily Brian is super-handy and had it fixed in no time after a trip to Ace Hardware to perfectly match up the plate for me. But back to our story. So I see this smashed in faceplate and plastic chips on the tile. I lock up the dog then grab the camera and the broom, thinking Brian is never going to believe this story. While I take a picture, Aiden is trying to touch the broken plastic. I tell him "No, no, it's sharp. Ow! That can cut!" and put my hand over it to block his poking. As I pull my hand away, I cut myself on the finger! I show Aiden the cut (to prove my point that plastic can cut) and then go to get a band-aid with him following me scolding "Nuh-nuh-no! OW! No, no!" I inspect the annoying shallow cut, dig around for a band-aid and then sweep up the plastic debris before I notice Aiden has silently disappeared. In fact the whole house has fallen silent. He must be in our bathroom....

I bolt into our room to see him running out of the bathroom shouting "Nuh-nuh-NO!" as he tries to get past me. (He's so self-incriminating! LOL!) I notice he has something pink and crumply in is hand as he weasels by. There on the floor he has dumped out an entire box of nursing pads I had stored in the back of a drawer in the bathroom and has made off with one, which he is now shoving into the driver's seat of his Fisher Price train.



Arg! I begin picking up the nursing pads when I wonder how he got these out of the back of the drawer with all the other stuff - like that black hair dryer attachment - in the way. Wait. I peer around the half wall and find the other stuff strewn about around the toilet and into our closet. HOW?!! It only took me about a minute and a half to get a band-aid on and sweep up the plastic!

It's not the worst afternoon ever. The grocery shopping AND vacuuming are done so I can't complain about the mangled breast pad riding in the battery-powered train down the hall. That night he brings a bottle of bubbles to the bathroom for us to blow while he's in the tub. Problem is, the once-clear bubble solution has now turned cloudy and has a slight green tint to it. I have no idea what he's added to it (Crystal Light?) but he's wailing for bubbles so I start blowing. Only problem is they're now indestructible mutant bubbles! The things won't pop! They pile up all over him and his bath toys. At one point he has a bubble-fro & Brian recovers from the hysteria first and runs for the camera before I can:



This isn't a lucky shot. The bubbles are staying in place, holding their shape and didn't budge until we rinsed them off. If I can figure out what he's mixed together to create this concoction of unpoppable bubbles we'll probably be made millionaires by our impossibly busy seventeen month-old! LOL!

Revenge of Dora

Remember back in March when the girls at work threw Brian a Dora birthday party as a hilarious practical joke? Well one of the gifts Brian got was a large, poseable Dora figurine dressed in a hot pink ballet tutu. When Aiden found her in the box yesterday and wanted to see her, I giggled and opened it for him. I said her name and laughed aloud when he repeated "Dara" (like "dada" with the r replacing the d).

This morning he had only been awake for 10 minutes when he came running into our bathroom, where I was pulling back my hair, stopped short and beaming, showed me Dora (with her arms and head twised the wrong direction in an exorcist-like pose) and shouted "DARA"! Then he gave her a hug and promptly threw her at me. (Boys.)

Here is a picture I took as he ran past with his hot pink tutued girlfriend in a choke hold:



And here is where he left her in a pile of books when he found something more interesting to do: (pulling kleenex out of the box I left unattended as I snapped pictures)



I'd like to thank the gals at Brian's office for buying "girl toys" so I don't have to endure Brian's protests and eye rolls when I want to provide Aiden with an array of toys, irregardless of the social stigmas attached to them. (Don't think I have forgotten about the cabbage patch baby either, Bri!) Nevermind that we absolutely could NOT leave Tuesday Morning yesterday, where I had stopped in to look for children's life jackets and new books for him, without a three dollar pair of construction vehicles. I think everyone in the store heard me calmly repeating to my screaming 15 month-old "First we buy the trucks and THEN we can open them" as he banged the box in frustration along the shopping cart handle bar. I tried to maintain a serene face - and not burst out laughing - when I handed the sweet old lady at the register the thrashed, partially dis-assembled box with the trucks dangling by their packaging wires so she could scan the battered barcode. This, of course, was after our trip to the library where I had wrangled Aiden at the checkout table (he's discovered pulling things out of my purse and throwing them is a good way to make me put him down so I can retrieve my tampons and other launched items) when the librarian, who also teaches the story time, didn't recognize us. She smiled as she handed me a bookmark with the story time information and invited us to come "let him get some energy out". It made me feel better knowing that his frequent public maulings of her hand puppets as she tried to lead the group in Old MacDonald had been forgotten...

Sometimes I have to admit that Aiden's mild misbehavior keeps me in check and reminds me I need to be the responsible parent every once in a while. And then, as my wonderful Playful Parenting book suggests, there are times I am happy to just be playful. Like at midnight last night when Aiden woke up for no reason and wanted to explore in the dark and then have a snack. We sat in the kitchen eating toasted raisin swirl bread with cream cheese frosting, playing peek-a-boo and giggling softly so we wouldn't wake Brian. THAT I know I will remember forever!

Tay's What-Kind-Of-Mother-Are-You-Feeding-Them-That-For-Breakfast Divine Frosted Raisin Bread:

2 slices of cinnamon raisin swirl bread toasted
small dollop of cream cheese frosting

Spread frosting thinly over the toasted raisin bread just removed from the toaster and let it slightly melt. Serve warm. Works wonders on sick, irritable children and Monday mornings.