Little Things

I haven't written much about my son in the last several months, but as the world approaches his second birthday I feel compelled to share. Two years now and it feels like a lifetime and (at the same time) just yesterday that "Little Man" was born. It has been a crazy ride and list night I got another glimpse of things to come. This has happened on numerous occasions as he has grown up, changed, and generally developed over the last two years.

The big thing I noticed last night was his memory. Wow! This kid isn't forgetting what happened thirty minutes ago, much less five minutes ago. This really makes the "redirection strategy" very difficult. For those unfamiliar with the redirection strategy, it is the process by which you re-direct your child's attention to something else he/she might perceive as fun or interesting and away from the thing or action that they are doing that is (by your standard) negative. Using the redirection strategy helps to mitigate the number of times you have to scold, discipline, or otherwise, reprimand your children. And lets face it, there are enough times where you have to do that, why not use a little misdirection and everyone stays happy.

So I picked him up at the baby-sitters yesterday afternoon, and while he was forced to stay inside he was watching the baby-sitter's older children play baseball in their front yard. He seamed okay with this, if he had thrown a tantrum it was long before I arrived. However, when we got home (15 minutes later) he picked up a long dowel rod in the garage and proceeded to say "hit ball" as he whacked everything in a three foot radius around him.

"Whoa there, Tex!" I cried as I frantically searched for his "puffy" bat. You know the ones that are padded with that Nerf material? I manage to switch out the dowel rod for the bat (the only successful redirection of the evening) and I get him outside. Luckily, Mommy had stacked all the wiffle balls in one place. This is perhaps the first time in 6 months that I have needed to find something in the house and not had to call her cell phone because she has hidden it in plain site and would have bitten me if it was snake. I am quite proud of myself at this point. I can't find the T-Ball stand and I curse under my breath. I refuse to call the wife. So instead he proceeds to knock the ball around the back yard like he was playing golf. He is happy with this. Until he sees the garden hose. Three days ago he flooded the flowerbed with water and made a mud-jacuzzi. He remembered this and wanted to do it again. I attempted to keep him interested in baseball but to no avail. We went inside because I wasn't going to give him a bath. He cried.

But I had my reprieve... It was 7:15pm and it was time for his thirty minutes of television before I would whisk him off to bed.

(Side Note: I don't see this is misdirection. This is bargaining. One arguably bad thing for another arguably bad thing)

I noticed that Curious George was recorded on the TiVo so it looked like we would be watching that silly cartoon monkey for the next half hour. Check that... more like the next hour. The kid couldn't get enough of that damn monkey. Especially since George visited a farm. Little Man loves animals and he couldn't stop giggling at the cows and pigs. He was happy with this. Until I decide that it is truly time for bed. He proceeds to throw a tantrum the likes of which have never been seen. Flailing arms, tears, and a body whip-lash that would send anyone over the age of 65 into traction. Hell, I think I have neck pain just watching it.

I manage to make it into the nursery with a sippy-cup of milk, a pacifier, his favorite stuffed animal, and all fingers and toes intact. We settle down with a good book: A Winnie the Pooh Winter. He loves the Pooh Bear franchise with Tigger and Christopher Robin at the top of his list of favorites. Christopher Robin by the way is pronounced "Chisefer Mama" according to my son. We cycle through books and my son finally settles down and enjoys story time. He was happy with this. Until he sees a farm house in the background of one of the stories about a puppy dog. He is immediately reminded of the Curious George farm episode and begins crying for "George" again. I calm him down with another story but the damage is done. I try and wrap things up at thirty minutes beyond his bedtime and he isn't having it. He's pulling all the aces out of his sleeves using words like: No, Mommy, Please, Cow, George, eh-fant (or Elephant in baby talk). The lights go off and he goes berserk. While I am walking him to the crib he spits out his pacifier. This is the one life-line we have to keep the boy calm and bridge the gap between being awake and being asleep. I'm not leaving this room until "passy" is recovered. So I turn the lights back on and he says "Okay!" as if to say, "Thanks for turning the lights on, Dad. Now we can get back to reading stories." So I wrap things up with the book "Goodnight Moon," remembering to skip the pages about the cow. I wouldn't want to remind him about Curious George again.

Finally he calms down as I place him in bed. He sits up for a few minutes to rearrange his stuffed animals. I wait patiently as he finds all his favorites and lines them up so that he can sleep on top of them. He is happy with this... and so am I.

I say goodnight.