The very best of the toddler from the past three days:
The baby was asleep in his bouncer today when it was time for the toddler to take his nap. The toddler was thrilled mommy went upstairs for nap time to snuggle him to sleep without his little brother in tow.
So imagine his surprise when he woke alone. I heard him say, "Heeey! Mommy no here!" when he woke up. He sprung out of bed, flung open his door, walked to the top of the stairs and saw me on the couch cuddling his little brother. His brows furrowed and passionately he declared, "Mommy supposed to be snuggling ME for nap!"
Whoops! It was like being caught red-handed in the middle of the night eating ice cream from the carton when you're supposed to be on a diet! I didn't even have an answer, so I stammered something about being sorry and tried to explain the baby was fussing. And then I tried to make him forget the whole betrayal ever occurred by letting him help me cook dinner and destroy the formerly clean kitchen. That'll teach me.
Some battles are not worth fighting. I waived my white flag of surrender in the Battle of Wear Nice, Color-Coordinated Outfits when I found the toddler dressing himself in his room.
Yes, his pants are on backwards; yes, he is wearing a plaid, button-down shirt with sweat pants; and, yes, I let him leave the house in this ensemble. And I didn't fix his pants either. It was the first time he'd ever put pants on alone (after months of my begging him to), and I didn't want something good to turn into something like an extreme melt down because he wanted to do it himself. It's not like the offense was something DCFS will be knocking at my door for, but all of the fashion police we encountered sure did shoot me looks of detest and horror. They apparently don't live with any two year olds.
But I did button his shirt. It was either that or put gold chains around his neck to complete the look, so I opted to insist on helping him.
The toddler adopted a Mickey Mouse stuffed animal as his baby. He takes care of the baby while I care for the real baby.
Today the toddler wanted to feed his baby ... the way mommy feeds the real baby.
"I feed my baby," he said.
"OK," I told him as I nursed our real baby. "What should he eat?"
The toddler looked perplexed.
"Should he have pineapple?" I asked, trying to help the kid out.
"No no no no no!" he exclaimed. "I feed him like mommy feed baby brother."
Suddenly it dawned on me that he didn't know what to call the food he wanted to feed his baby because he calls what our real baby eats "mommy milk." And the toddler, very apparently, realized he wasn't mommy, so the term "mommy milk" didn't seem to fit.
"Honey, you are a boy." I explained. "Boys are daddies. They don't have mommy milk."
His face brightened, and it looked like a light bulb went off inside his head.
"I feed my baby DADDY milk!"
I began to try to explain why this wouldn't work, but I couldn't find a simple enough way to explain lactation to our two year old. In the end, I handed him a cup full of "daddy milk," and that made him happy enough. Glad I didn't go into milk production with him when the solution was so simple.
What are you're kids doing to make you laugh instead of pull out your hair?