It's not that Canon is naughty, he's normal. I blame Crichton, for being this incredibly self-reliant, agreeable, cooperative, polite, talk-to-able creature. Crichton made me think I was doing something right. Crichton made other people think and even tell me I was a good mom.
[hahahahahahamawwaaaaaahahahahahhahahamaaahahamwwwwaaaaahahaha]
Well. Canon is a new species.
Actually I'm not 100% sure Canonball is "normal" per say. He is supernaturally funny, especially if you're not the one who has to clean him up. But lately, it's his 99% rejection rate that is cracking me up/making me crazy (ask my kids, "crazy moms beat their kids;" we don't want to make mom crazy).
"Do you want some breakfast?"
"NO!"
Sigh.
"Do you want cereal or eggs?" Because no one can't say no to a choice question.
"NO!"
"Do you want to eat or starve?"
"Stahv."
"Ok. Let me know if you change your mind."
"Oohkee dohkee, mom."
*****
My husband and I were in bed with the diaper wearing munchkins, discussing something very important, like who was going to get out of bed and locate "the stuff," and who would change the diapers. In the background (well, right in our faces, but we were trying to ignore him), we hear, "SHUH YO CAY COAL! MMOOOM SHUH YO CAY COAL!!!"
He looks right in my face, with those compelling blue eyes ("My eyes no bloo, ohrng!"), and says, "Shuh yo cay coal, mom."
My bablefish finally kicked in: Shut your cake hole, mom.
Perhaps you would have slapped the little sucker, or at least, calmly explained that we don't talk that way. I laughed.
Yes, so now, "Shut your cake hole" is a funny funny joke. Fortunately, only immediate family can understand him. For now.
*****
Besides the usual: "Are you poopy/stinky?" - "No YOU poopy/stinky!" business ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, every diaper change we also go through:
"Where does poo-poo and pee-pee go?"
"In dah BUM BUM," Smirk.
"Poo-poo and pee-pee go in the ..."
"PAAAAHHHHTY!"
"That's right. You can put your poo-poo and pee-pee in the potty."
"No tankkoo - in mah bum bum."
He's three. Crichton finally "got it" in the first month after his third birthday ... so, any day now, right? I won't still be buying pull-ups in a decade, right?
*****
Gramma Roth called to wish him a happy birthday.
G'ma: How old are you Canon?
Him: Too and uh haff.
Me: (in the background) No, say, "Three."
Him: One and uh haff.
Me: No...
Him: OnetwothreefoursixseveneightNINE.
*****
It is not unusual for Canon to wake up once or twice a night; I think it's just him coming out of the deep sleep cycle and almost waking up. I usually just tuck him in and snuggle until he calms down, then tell him I have to go potty and will come back later (like when the sun gets up - and by sun, I mean son ... or daughter).
Last night, Sagan woke up at 2 am (just as I was dozing off) crying and poopy and 30 seconds later, Canon got up, crying, croupy coughing, and feverish. Husband was still at work (crunch time, baby, I miss you!) so it was a two-kids-crying diaper change. FORTUNATELY, I have stocked up on this amazing little product called Triaminic Thin Strips Night Time Cough and Cold. I think there was recently a report saying not to give kids under 4 any cold medicine, but, when it's 2 am and you only have 2 hands ... sorry FDA, I'm drugging the monkey.
Back in the dark ages of parenting, your only option was a sticky, sweet, pink or purple liquid and spoon/cup/syringe thingy. But now, they have these little paper-like squares that just melt away in their mouth. IF YOU CAN GET THEM TO OPEN THEIR MOUTH.
"CANON! Eat the damn medicine!" Sagan is in my left arm, squirming and yanking Canon's hair.
"MM-MMM!"
"CANON! DO YOU WANT TO EAT THE MEDICINE OR GET A SPANKING?!" Because, at 2 am, I am crazy and evil and I will threaten a sick child with bodily harm ... I make Jesus cry.
"MM-MMM!"
I turn him over and half-heartedly swack his be-diapered bum.
"MMMMM!"
"CANON! SO HELP ME! EAT THIS!"
"MMMMMMMMM!"
Here's where I (why did God send me, unworthy bad person, these precious angels?) JAM a folded up square of medicine into his uncooperative mouth. He cries, I apologize and awkwardly hug him/pry his hair out of Sagan's clenched fist.
I leave the room, he's still whimpering a little. I wait in the hallway, but he doesn't get up. He sleeps the rest of the night. Daddy comes home at 4. Canon wakes up at 7:30, happy, healthy, hungry.
"Do you want cereal or eggs?"
"No."
5 Brilliant Bits of Inspiration:
haha, I LOVED this post! reminds me of my two year old.
Ahhh... good times, good times.
It gets better fast and the day will come when you look back at this phase and think to yourself, "How did that contrary child turn into this truly lovely human being?" Sam was a lot (a lot, a lot) like Canon (of course he couldn't hear and we thought he was defiant- not functionally deaf from fluid buildup). Now Sam is the kindest, most helpful (truly helpful), and thoughtful of all the kids in the house.
Well, good, I have some hope.
I think you have a gifted child on your hands with Canon....I think I read somewhere that Einstein did not toilet train until he was, like five or something.
Personally, I also give a little medicine for the sickie non-sleep nights (my sister the pharmacist says that it's only when you give a LOT of doses in a row that it gets dangerous); on nights that Olivia is just plain wired, I give a dose of melatonin. It works like a charm.
Catherine
PS--I was/am a middle child too, we like to be, um, challenging....he he he!
I think I meant to say mischevieous, not challenging.
Also, we were at Kohl's yesterday looking for ornaments. Yes, still looking for ornaments for the tree that is still standing in my kitchen. Sigh. Olivia freaks every time I talk about taking it down. Sigh.
Anyway, I just wanted to mention that we were about to buy the same ornament in the picture (a pickle Mommy!), but half of the beads on the backside had fallen off. Kinda funny.
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