Back Off, Mom
July 5th, 2012
My son is almost two-years-old. In his mind, this makes him a grown up.
Buggie has started displaying a decided streak of independence in recent weeks and when that boy has an opinion, you know. Heck, the whole world knows.
Let’s take ice cream as an example. We have a favorite soft-serve place in the college town nearby. It’s bliss. There’s a whole wall of dispensers and you help yourself, then load on toppings at a buffet line of candy, nuts, cereal, and fresh fruit. You pay by weight. We go there with alarming regularity.
Anyways, I generally let Miss Mouse have her own small bowl and share with Buggie. Except that on our last two trips, Buggie has determined that this arrangement is unacceptable. He wants his own bowl, darn it. It’s not enough that I get two spoons and let him root around and take all the Reese Cups (don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, you little booger). Oh no. He now throws a complete hissy fit if he doesn’t have his own bowl.
Then there are the stairs in our house. The steep, shallow, hardwood stairs? Yes, those. Buggie wants to clamber up and down BY HIMSELF. It infringes upon his personal liberty to hold mommy’s hand. You can just forget about carrying him. (Unless, of course His Highness is sleepy in which case, he deigns to accept a ride.)
I love to see my son emerging with such a clear personality. No, really, I do. Seriously. Stop laughing.