We are in the home stretch, reaching towards my son's second birthday which falls right in the middle of the summer. When people ask me how old he is now, I just answer "He'll be two this summer." The coming months are a preparation for the much feared terrible twos.
I am starting to get a taste for what lies ahead. My son's favourite word is 'no'. I thought we had skipped this stage but I was wrong. "Shall we go to the park?" "No." "Time for a bath." "No." "Time to put the markers away." "No." "Do you want to snuggle with mummy?" "No." It has become the most powerful word in our house. And he uses it with the disdain usually reserved for fourteen year-old girls. "Do you want some cheese?" His look tells me that he can tell I am trying too hard, that what I am offering is second-rate, that by merely asking I have lowered myself in his esteem. "No."
And the emotions. Oh, the emotions. Tears at the drop of a hat, in fact, sometimes the hat doesn't even need to be dropped, just mentioned. "Shall we put on our hat?" "No. Wahhhhhhhhh." Excitement so bright and loud that it often takes a tumble to calm it. To wit, watch him climb in and out of the crib in near hysteria for as long as the mood holds or he lands on his head. He is autocratic. A second favourite word after 'no' is 'more'. More songs, more stories, more snacks. But beware the fool who chooses the wrong song, story or snack. "No, no. Wahhhhhhhhhhh."
I think this is about proportion. Proportion and emotion. Up until now my little man was a fairly straight-forward kind of guy, a meat and potatoes, I know what I like and I like what I know, two-car garage and an unquestioned house in the suburbs sort. Now, he's getting the emotions flooding in and he sure doesn't know how to handle it. He's signing up for 'wild man' weekends, he's calling his friends up in the middle of the night and flying into a rage about missing a parking spot. Everything is off-kilter. One minute it's 'I'M SO HAPPY!" the next it's "I NEED THAT CELLPHONE OR I WILL DIE!"
Maybe the next year will be a process of learning how to deal with strong emotion: joy, disappointment, frustration, excitement, pride. But for now, they sweep over him like a wave, he totters and sometimes goes under, consumed by the feeling. Maybe the unending 'no' is his way to slow the flood.
I am starting to get a taste for what lies ahead. My son's favourite word is 'no'. I thought we had skipped this stage but I was wrong. "Shall we go to the park?" "No." "Time for a bath." "No." "Time to put the markers away." "No." "Do you want to snuggle with mummy?" "No." It has become the most powerful word in our house. And he uses it with the disdain usually reserved for fourteen year-old girls. "Do you want some cheese?" His look tells me that he can tell I am trying too hard, that what I am offering is second-rate, that by merely asking I have lowered myself in his esteem. "No."
And the emotions. Oh, the emotions. Tears at the drop of a hat, in fact, sometimes the hat doesn't even need to be dropped, just mentioned. "Shall we put on our hat?" "No. Wahhhhhhhhh." Excitement so bright and loud that it often takes a tumble to calm it. To wit, watch him climb in and out of the crib in near hysteria for as long as the mood holds or he lands on his head. He is autocratic. A second favourite word after 'no' is 'more'. More songs, more stories, more snacks. But beware the fool who chooses the wrong song, story or snack. "No, no. Wahhhhhhhhhhh."
I think this is about proportion. Proportion and emotion. Up until now my little man was a fairly straight-forward kind of guy, a meat and potatoes, I know what I like and I like what I know, two-car garage and an unquestioned house in the suburbs sort. Now, he's getting the emotions flooding in and he sure doesn't know how to handle it. He's signing up for 'wild man' weekends, he's calling his friends up in the middle of the night and flying into a rage about missing a parking spot. Everything is off-kilter. One minute it's 'I'M SO HAPPY!" the next it's "I NEED THAT CELLPHONE OR I WILL DIE!"
Maybe the next year will be a process of learning how to deal with strong emotion: joy, disappointment, frustration, excitement, pride. But for now, they sweep over him like a wave, he totters and sometimes goes under, consumed by the feeling. Maybe the unending 'no' is his way to slow the flood.
(The image, by the way, is from Jill Greenberg's series "End Game" in which she photographed children after she had taken away their toy or candy. Ouch.)
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