Parental Units: Two years old and loving it

Katy Sinclair Parental Units

We’ve hit a major milestone: Baby Girl A just turned 2 years old.

We didn’t have a party; with Thanksgiving and Hubster’s work schedule, we kept our celebration low-key. We did have cake, of course, and since it was her day, I even shared my slice with the birthday girl.

Sharing food is one aspect of having children that I’m still not thrilled about. Baby Girl A rarely eats what is on her plate, preferring to sidle over to me as I’m about to dig in. First she asks to just sit on my lap, then she insists on trying whatever I’m eating. A few minutes later, I’m not only out of my chair, I’m watching her devour my dinner. Big Girl E mostly stays away from my plate (especially when broccoli is involved) so I’m hoping this is just a phase.

Other characteristics of this “phase” are just as unpleasant. For example, I no longer use a watch. I know what time it is by my younger girl’s temper tantrums. One comes at 8:20 a.m., right after her older sister and Hubster leave for the day. I know it’s close to 11 a.m. (her nap time) when she starts throwing her stuffed animals around the living room. Pick-up time for Big Girl E (3 p.m.) immediately follows her afternoon fit. And the bedtime routine begins when A picks a fight with E over a previously ignored toy.

Bodily functions are a popular and frequent topic of discussion these days. We are currently potty-learning the little one. (Potty learning is the same thing as potty training. I have been told that enlightened parents use “potty-learning” to respect toddlers’ humanity. As one mother told me rather sternly, “We train animals, not our children.”) Recently E decided to help me with a potty lesson. She sat with me on the floor of the bathroom while we encouraged A to “do the deed.” When A finally acquiesced (45 long minutes later), E whooped it up as loudly as I did. Then at dinner, she told her father all of the details of the “event.” Hubster didn’t eat very much that night.

Emotions run high in toddlerhood. When she’s feeling good, Baby Girl A is a hugger. Even when she’s in a rotten mood, she uses those boa constrictor embraces for evil. I’m not one to turn away a needy toddler but I do get annoyed when the full-body press morphs into a hitting frenzy. And God forbid anyone try to disentangle before she’s ready to let go. Her hurt is channelled into a writhing mess on the floor that lasts approximately 6.5 times longer than her hug would have.

I know that all the good and bad of this stage are fleeting. I try to appreciate Baby Girl A  for what she is: a curious cyclone of exploration. Most of the time she is a joyful little person with pretty simple needs. As I wrote this column, she entertained herself (a rare occurrence) by running in circles and bouncing off the furniture. Every time she fell over, giggled hysterically and hopped right back up.

Her laughter made most of the day’s other aggravations melt away.

As long as she stays away from my dessert, I’ll be fine.

Contact Katy Sinclair at KatySinclair09@gmail.com