Cubby has been fairly magnanimous since being supplanted as The Baby with Charlie's arrival. Cubby will--after much coaching--"trade" toys with Charlie so Charlie at least has something to play with when Cubby takes something Charlie has been looking at*. He will also find a baby toy for Charlie unprompted, which is nice to see. If I ask Cubby if Charlie can look at one of Cubby's toys, he'll usually say yes.
But you know what Cubby is totally NOT DOWN with sharing?
The pack. CUE DRAMA.
Last week when we were going on a Family Fun excursion in the woods, I mentioned that it was warm enough and Charlie had gotten big enough that I could try carrying him backpack style in his baby carrier. To which A. replied that maybe we should try him in the big carrier.
What? A walk with the family during which I am not weighted down with an enormous infant? OKAY.
So we put Charlie in the pack. And Cubby immediately was all, what the hell is this?
I can kind of see his viewpoint. The pack is a sacred thing to Cubby. The pack is how he was conveyed on all the most fun excursions of his young life. The pack means bonding time with Daddy. The pack is HIS.
REMOVE THE INTERLOPER.
We did not remove the interloper. I offered Cubby a lollipop to enjoy during our walk, since he was such a big boy! He can walk! He can have a lollipop!
He took the lollipop. He did not stop crying and protesting.
So on our way up the lane to the woods, I brought out the ultimate Cubby pleaser: The hatchet.
The hatchet is, well, a hatchet, except the other side of the blade is a hammer part. It's small, and quite dull, and one of Cubby's favorite things in the world. I offered him the hatchet. And that was the end of the tears. "Okay! Here, Mommy; hold my lollipop."
He totally forgot about the lollipop in favor of the hatchet. That's my boy.
I ended up carrying Charlie in the pack myself anyway because I had to bring him home early for his dinner, but it was nice to relinquish him to his father for a short time, at least. After I made it cool with Cubby, of course.
i love that your kid is so normal.
ReplyDeleteand by "normal", i mean that his behaviors seem to make sense and he's probably going to grow up not screwed up, which i guess makes him sort of freakish.
did i mention gratitude? because thanks.
thank you from all of us out here who don't have kids and are going to depend on people like you to produce a new crop of adults who will not be scary messed-up creeptacular whackadoodles.
I will add my gratitude to flask's. Thank you for raising normal children.
ReplyDeleteThat is what being a mom is.....knowing your children, guiding them, realizing what they are capable of doing and supporting them from afar. Beth
Because I have watched *way* too many horror flicks, when the story went from "pissed off toddler" to "pissed off toddler with an axe" I got a little worried about how things were going to turn out.
ReplyDeleteGood thing Cubby is more well adjusted than I am.
It's all about putting the effort into trying to figure out what makes your little ones tick. Granted, an imperfect science, but cudos for continuing to muddle through. Too bad Cubby and Chariie will never fully appreciate the effort but I do!
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