Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Terrible Twos are on their way

Let's talk about this kid for a minute.

Even though he's not quite two yet, he is sure working on fulfilling the stereotype. Clearly one of his older friends slipped him a copy of How to Lose Friends and Alienate Your Mother: The Two-Year-Old's Social Guide because he has really been on one lately.

Take this morning for example.

Well, let's back up.

Last week Logan woke up early enough to see Tyson before he goes to work. And Tyson would usually get him out of his crib and start his breakfast since he's up anyway (it goes without saying that I was not up yet - Tyson leaves for work at 7 people!). I would eventually meet them downstairs and start the day with them, puffy eyes and all.

Well this week Logan has been waking up after Tyson is already gone. Like 7:01 when the garage door opens (master planning right there putting the baby's room above the garage) and he is mad when I show up to get him out of his crib.

So mad that he would rather stay in his crib than have the likes of me getting him out. Usually I pretend to leave and that makes him panic and then he'll let me pick him up.

Not today.

Today he did his usual scream and back away trick when I approached so I left the room. And he didn't care. No screaming or crying. So I went back in and tried to pick him up again. Fail.

At that point there was nothing to do but go downstairs, have some s'more cups for breakfast (you would do it too if they were sitting on your counter from your latest batch and there was no one around to beg them off you) and see if my blog made another 30 cents.

Oh sure I tried going upstairs every once in a while to get him out, usually when he would start to cry but with no luck. I even pulled him out of the crib once and set him on the floor but he went running back and clutched at the bars. So I put him back in and went downstairs again.

I even cleaned a toilet in between attempts.

I even did my clown-like version of if you're happy and you know it stomp your feet. He joined in on the foot stomping but he was not happy.

I even offered cars, movies, and cereal as a bribe.

Eventually, an hour later, he decided I was worthy/dad wasn't coming and reluctantly allowed me to carry him downstairs, serve him the breakfast of his choice, and put on the movie of his choice.

Lucky me.

Logan's all about equal parental mistreatment though. At bedtime he only wants me around. Too bad it's Tyson's turn for bath tonight.

Lucky Tyson.

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