Brilliant Outwitting

Part of being a parent is staying one step ahead in the game of manipulation. As any parent of a toddler will attest, kids between 2 and 4 are princes and princesses of perverse behavior. If you say something is black, they will say it's white. So how does one go about outsmarting their kid while he or she is in the throws of establishing toddler autonomy?

Phoenix has what many kids his age experience, some form of sensory integration. He thinks the bath water is scalding, when it is luke warm. He thinks that fizzy soda is "prickly" in his mouth. He thinks certain shorts or pants are itchy and any food that looks suspicious must be disgusting so is boycotted. Given my son's often obstinate behavior in any of these given situations, I am faced with two choices, forced immersion or reverse psychology. In other words: playful torture or brilliant outwitting. So what do these two forms of behavior modification look like you might ask.

Here's an example of brilliant out-witting: The other night, we had BBQ ribs for the first time. Phoenix eyed his plate and started to give that whatever this is, I'm NOT eating it look. Before Nix could even protest though, David launched a test a wills. Nix, being of the mindset that what's mine is mine, was about to have his strong will turned against him.

"I love BBQ ribs" David growled in a monster voice.

Phoenix flashed his dimples at him.

"I'm a gonna eat all my ribs and then I'm a gonna eat all YOURS," the monster continued.

"NO!" Phoenix wailed.

David reached his hand towards Phoenix's plate, "I'm a gonna eat 'em up...YUM!"

Phoenix's eyes flashed: Do I NOT eat this stuff because it looks gross or do I let David STEAL my dinner (that I don't even want)? David and Phoenix stared each other down like two contending arm wrestlers. Without batting an eye, Phoenix grabbed a rib and ripped off a bite. He grinned like a champion with sauce smeared across his cheeks. Each bite the other took was an invitation to establish who was the alpha rib eater - David or Phoenix. Who would it be? They growled at each other and took ravenous bites like vultures tearing into roadkill. In the end, I think they both won. Phoenix didn't LOOSE his dinner to David and David WON the sticky smile of a new BBQ rib fan.

Grease Monkey

All parents know that if kids are quiet they must be up to no good! This is especially true when you have a precocious two year old. Kids seem to have a magnetic pull to all that is messy, disgusting, off limits, or out of reach. So it was, that one day I was taking a shower. Phoenix was playing on the floor entertaining himself with toys on the bathroom rug. It occurred to me, at some point, that I had not heard him in several minutes and so assumed he had toddled off to seek some other play with his brother. It was not until exited the shower that I discovered the horror of his mischief.

With cat-like dexterity, Phoenix had scaled the bathroom counter and opened every container within reach. The scene was that of a mad apothecary at work. Lotions, perfumes, salves, hair gels, and hairspray lay scattered on the counter. But what alarmed me the most was the can of Bag Balm. The distinctive square, green can with flowers and cow udders sat open. Its sticky lid on the floor and its contents nearly gone. On the counter sat Phoenix grinning wide. In his hands gobs of gooey Bag Balm oozed. The walls above the counter were gleaming with the yellow, petroleum salve that filled the air with its antiseptic scent.

Remember the days at camp when you were a kid? Ever played that game where you grease a watermelon and try to do some ridiculous relay with it? This became the challenge of washing Phoenix. Water ran off his expertly greased body like water off a duck's back. My kid had become waterproof! I scoured the walls with similar difficulty. I used every cleaning product in the house to degrease the walls. I finally gave up and resolved to the fact that I was going to have a uniquely stained bathroom backsplash. When we moved from that rental house, I giggled at the thought of the landlord trying to repaint the bathroom. I envisioned him running the paint roller over the "stain" and seeing the paint bead up like sweat. He would never know the story of my little Grease Monkey.

Long Live the Desk

There is something to be said about furniture that requires "some assembly." I bought a desk several years ago that, at the time, was the perfect solution for my home office/student needs. It was compact, had a built in filing cabinet, and had the ability to expand with a collapsable table. The hutch also provided loads of storage for other office supplies. What an awesome desk. For a mere $400, it took only 4 hours to assemble.

Over the years, this desk moved with me many times. I was the only one who knew how to disassemble it and then reassemble every time. On my last move, I came to the conclusion that the desk had seen better days. It was, after all, one of those particle board/laminate wood desks. I purchased a new desk and some matching bookcases and then began the process of disassembling my old desk one last time. I took pieces of the desk down the stairs and to the curb for garbage day. After hauling most of the desk outside, I decided to wait until the following garbage day to haul the hutch to the curb.

A week later, I dragged the hutch to the top of stairs.

Phoenix, very curious of my latest project, inquired, "What doin' Mama?"

"I'm taking the old desk to the curb so I can put the new desk together, Baby."

"Why?"

"Because the desk is old and falling apart so Mama bought a new one."

"Ooooh"

I went to my bedroom to get shoes when I heard a CRASH followed by a scream of terror or pain! I ran from my room with one shoe on. The hutch was smashed on the landing of the staircase and in the wall, two large gaping holes had been punched. I heard a wimper from the boys' room and found Phoenix hiding under his bed. I pulled him out and made sure he wasn't hurt. Phoenix trembled. He was more scared than anything.

We ventured out of his room and inspected the damage.

"Well, you did it this time!" I teased, "You killed it. You killed Mama's desk."

"I sorry Mama. I not want to kill your desk. I was helping."

"It's alright. He had a good, long life. Now let's take him to the graveyard."

Phoenix and I laughed as we dragged the remains of the desk to the curb.

The holes in the wall smiled.

It's Raining in the Kitchen

One evening last summer I drew a bath for Phoenix. Maginnis had showered the night before so was in charge of "supervising" his little brother's bath. My office was next to the bathroom and I could hear Phoenix's splashing and the boys' giggling.

Soon Maginnis came to me, "Mom, Phoenix is getting water on the floor."

"That's okay, just get a towel from under the sink and mop it up. Tell him not to splash water out of the tub though!" I directed without looking up from my computer.

Maginnis left the room and I could hear the vanity cabinet being opened. All too soon he returned.

"Mom, there's kind of a lot of water," Maginnis stated very matter of factly.

I sighed. Obviously, I was not going to get any work done with all the interruptions. I grudgingly went to the bathroom annoyed that bath time had become such a production. Upon entering the bathroom I stepped into what must have been an inch of water on the floor.

"Are you kidding? What's going on in here?" I imagined myself having looked like one of those cartoon characters with steam coming out my ears.

I grabbed more towels from under the sink, yanked Phoenix out of the tub, and became the dreaded psycho-mom, with raging eyes and veins popping out of my neck. I sopped up water as fast as I could while Phoenix stood naked in his bedroom door, dripping wet, and shivering. Then I heard it. A sound from downstairs. An unfamiliar sound that caused great alarm.

I hushed Phoenix from his incessant I sorry Mama's, "Shhh, what is that?"

I ran downstairs and saw water pouring from the ceiling onto the floor.

"This is so NOT cool, " I screamed, "You two are SO dead!"

This time I ran to the laundry room and grabbed towels. I threw them on the floor where a small lake was forming before running back upstairs to deal with the source of the rainstorm in the kitchen.

As I mopped up the last of the water, and wrung the towels out in the tub, I also picked up the tub toys. The last thing I threw in the basket of toys was a tall, red, plastic, Coca-Cola cup ~ the cup that had been used to bail water out of Phoenix's sinking boat (the tub)! From the hall I heard Maginnis.

"I told you there was a lot of water, Mom."

No Kill Phoenix

We all know that toddlers can be meladramatic but this tale tops them all. Last summer we were visiting my parents in Tallahassee, Florida. Their house sits on Lake Jackson and their backyard is a labor of love and their pride and joy (aside from their grandchildren of course). At one end of the pool is a gazebo and at the other is a pond filled with Koi fish. The waterfall cascades down rocks and boulders handpicked by my dad (otherwise know as Papa Bear) and brought from as far away as Michigan.

Much to my mother's horror she discovered a black snake living among the the rocks of the pond.

She shrieked to my dad, "I hate snakes....just kill it!"

I herded the kids in the house as I saw my dad appear pondside with a small pistol. We stood at the windows of the Florida room as my dad and mom crept about the pond. Mom poked greenery with sticks and Dad squinted ready to fire at anything that moved.

"There it is!" Mom squealed.

"Don't move, I've got him," Dad uttered with authority.

I heard the gun go off a few times and assumed they must have killed the bugger. I hugged Phoenix in my arms and went back outside with Maginnis trailing behind me. I wanted to show them the dead snake. Upon reaching the deck above the falls, Dad hollered, "Don't move!"

I saw him take aim, and the wheels in my head frantically spun. The snake wasn't dead. He had missed. He had gotten away. Dad was going to shoot again and there was no time to get back in the house. There was no time to warn the boys either.

BANG! A blood curdling scream pierced my left ear and Phoenix frantically clung to me, shaking with terror.

"We got him this time!" Mom celebrated.

"You shot me! Papa Bear shot me!" Phoenix wailed, his hands flying to his neck.

It was hard not to laugh as I ran my hands over every bit of Phoenix's little trembling body. I repeatedly showed him my hands to prove there was no blood and that he was bullet free. He looked at my dad with a somber "how could you" countenance and grabbed at his neck sure that he had been shot.

"Papa Bear killed a snake. He would never hurt you, Baby," I reasoned.

"Kill snake? No kill Phoenix?"

"You're perfectly fine," I assured.

Prinklely Toes and Grossipes

Prinklely

As I was loading the kids into the car the other day, Phoenix observed my fresh pedicure.

"Mama, they are very prinklely!"

"What?" I couldn't imagine what on earth he was talking about.

Phoenix smiled and pointed to my toes. The gears in my head were grinding trying to decipher what he was trying to say when it came to me!

"You mean pink and sparkley?"

"YES! Prinklely!"

Grossipes (Gross + recipes)

I have learned having boys, that if you can't beat them, join them! Boys are gross by nature. They love to have disgusting conversations about anything. They will show you the black dirt under their toes while trying to shove their filthy tootsies up your nose. They run around the house naked. They bend over and shake their bare bottoms at you. Boys will will tell you the color of their poo (and yes if they eat Rainbow Goldfish crackers it will be neon green).

While on our last trip out of town, when the DVD player no longer entertained the boys, and the DS was "boring," I decided to invent their kind of fun.

"Let's make up recipes and see whose is the grossest. I'll start. I'm going to make a pickle sandwich with peanut butter, flies, and flaming hot Cheetos smashed inside!"

The boys ewwwed in the back seat.

Maginnis was next, "I'm going to make a worm cake with marshmallows, moldy cheese, farts, and David's face (my boyfriend)!"

Maginnis was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.

"I get a turn, Mama!" Phoenix demanded.

"Let's hear it!" I cheered.

"I'm going to make something really gross. I'm going to make a pizza with boogers, poop, pee, and diarrhea!"

That was it...game over.

"You win! You're the most disgusting child in the world!"

The Low Down on the Wipe Down

While my kid can't be a comedian every day, I have several stories from the past to share. Those of you that have kids can appreciate this and those of you that don't have something to look forward to. I began searching thru photos to prompt today's blog and came across one taken about 18 months ago. At the time the photo was taken Nix had just finished potty training and we were visiting my sister in Indiana. Just because your kid may know when he has to go doesn't mean he has the art of "wiping" down.

Now, at age 4, Nix will call me from the bathroom, "Maaaaama....come wipe my butt!"

Imagine my gaping jaw upon entering the bathroom 18 months ago and finding my child, feet dangling, bottom hanging in the pot, and a mountain of toilet paper next to him on the floor.

I tried to look serious and asked, "Phoenix, what happened?"

"Mama, I try to get paper but d'ere was too much!"

My serious charade came crashing to the floor with laughter.

Some of the most amusing moments seem to happen when Nix is in the bathroom. For instance, why does my child feel the need to profess his love for me while doing his business?

Nix bellows from the bathroom, "Maaaaaama?"

"Yeeees, Baby? You need me to wipe you?"

"No, Mama. I just love you."

And if that's not enough, when I do my obligatory wiping he leans forward, wraps his arms around my knees and says, "Mama, I love you sooooo much."

Nobody told me before having kids that taking your kid to the potty would be such a bonding experience!

Of course sentimental potty bonding time does not go both ways (much to both my boys dismay).

"Believe it or not...Mommy likes to go potty alone...with the door closed...really!"

I'm met with the deer in the headlights look. Blink. Blink.

"I'm closing the door now."

My boyfriend on the other hand has introduced a whole new level of grossness to potty time.

When he "pollutes" the bathroom, he entices the boys with "Hey, did you leave some money in the bathroom? You better go and look; I think it might be yours."

Maginnis looks cautiously at David. Phoenix takes off running straight for the gas chamber then comes out green, coughing and laughing.

Meanwhile, the girls (who know their dad's game all too well) say, "We told you not to go in there!"