My newborn baby is not so new anymore. In fact, he is not referred to as baby anymore. He is a toddler. An adamant, highly opinionated and dominating one at that. He decides his mode of transport for his evening walks, he decides the shoes to go along with his attire, he decides his night suit and has a scream so loud, it would put the thunder Gods to shame.
I’m slowly adapting to this new personality. In a battle of parents v/s toddler, the toddler always wins, so best to give in and best to sit out their tantrums. It is VERY hard, to have someone scream at your face 24*7, simply because his Peppa Pig t-shirt has gone for wash, or the stool to climb over the sink to play with water is missing. You either stay calm or lose your cool.
Last weekend, the husband and I got all dolled up to hit a hip new restaurant in town, when little sir, decided he wanted to wash his toy cars in the sink for one hour. Each time we dragged him outside the bathroom, he cried until his entire body became red. We sat through that tantrum patiently.
Privacy is an even bigger issue now, as he can open doors. Just when you’re about to let a big one drop in the potty, he comes barging in and says, “Move! Clean bum, now!” and hands me the health faucet. I have a habit of watching soaps and thriller movies on my mobile phone, while on the pot. In the midst of one of those scary scenes, a small figure silently crept inside the bathroom, stood in front of me and whispered, “Mumma, chuechue” and peed on my legs. I almost had a heart attack. I was convinced my bathroom is haunted by a little boy ghost. The warm liquid on my toes, the eerie whisper, it was right out of a Stephen King novel.
Taking him down to the park on his cycle has become a task, as he moves the handle around like a crazy drunk person. The “parental control” handle is a joke, as we keep bumping into walls and people. The pram is a forgotten antique now. God bless the souls of people, who want to take a leisurely walk with him. He almost plies the fingers out of your hand as he walks confidently in whichever direction he pleases. More often than not, he wants to walk on the main road, in the middle of heavy traffic, because hey, see-saws and swings are so 18 months old! He’s a rebel two-year-old, without a cause. Get with it or fall behind.
Muddy puddles are another fascination, thanks to dear old Peppa Pig. He jumps in them, sits on them, pushes his cycles around in them and if nothing else, he vigorously washes his hands inside them. I’ll need a lot of wine and coffee, to survive this year and perhaps the next, the way things are going.