Nemo rocks! Daddy doesn't!
Daddy snapped you eating chocolate-chip bundt cake
Let me start with the naughty part. :)
The other night, you threw a tantrum. Daddy broke the cardinal Devin rule: Never take away my cars. You thought you should be able to take them to bed with you. Daddy thought differently and absconded with them. You took great exception. Such screaming and yelling. "NO, DADDY! NO, DADDY!" And other scolding remarks that were slightly unintelligible, but still very much understood.
This incident happened during bedtime, just as you'd squirmed into your PJs. All that was left was to get your inhaler and brush your teeth. From the other side of the bathroom door, I could hear your ferocious yells. And from the midst of it all, loud and clear, I heard: "DADDY POOPY! I LIKE MOMMY!"
Woah! It was the first time you'd ever called either of us a name. Or declared a preference in such harsh terms. At first I stifled a giggle, because it was kind of funny. Then I popped into the bathroom to defend my husband. "You do NOT call people names," I stated firmly. But I was looking into the face of a very peeved two-year-old. You were literally seething. I repeated the sentence and walked out. Later, Daddy and I commisserated on the incident. His feelings were not hurt in the bit. He, in fact, thought it was fairly impressive.
But you never got those cars back. We ain't no pushovers.
On to less naughty recaps:
You went pee-pee on the potty two nights ago. Quite proudly too. Once I heard the tinkling sound, I broke into a controlled, but happy smile. You knew right away that you'd done well. So there was a hearty, "Great job, Devin!" And the wearing of a race car diaper (bopper) to cap off the evening. Since that night, you've been a bit more eager to use the potty. We picked up a pack of big-boy diapers today, The Wiggles, to show you some of what you can expect once it actually kicks into gear. I do realize, however, that it could still be a while. But you're much more interested than you have been. So I consider that great progress.
Last week Daddy showed me a nifty trick he taught you. He'd sat behind you and lifted your left arm, moving it up and down, over and over again and saying, "Left hand, left hand, left hand." Then he'd taken your right arm and moved it around in circles, saying "Right hand, right hand, right hand." So later that day, he said, "Hey, Devin, where's your left hand." And you lifted the hand right up and showed me. Then he asked about the right and you did the same. We quizzed you for the next two days and you had them right. I'm amazed. I found the whole left/right thing confusing when I was a kid, but I also couldn't tie my shoes until kindergarten. Says a lot about me, doesn't it?
A few nights ago, a lovely thunderstorm blew through about 20 minutes after you'd gone to sleep. I was sure you'd wake up at the loud cracks of thunder, but you slept on, even through the impressive lightning. But a smaller storm passed by a bit after midnight and the low-rumbling thunder seemed to have a bit more impact. You woke up, crying, "Boom! Boom!" and we ushered you into our room. The storms scare you, even during daylight, and we never leave you in your room when you're frightened.
Still, nights like that always bring on difficult periods. You prefer sleeping with us when the opportunity arises, and then don't want to go back to going to sleep in your own bed. You cried and screamed the last two nights. And last night you even yelled out, "Cared! Cared!" So we went up to try to calm you down and get you back to sleep. You said you were scared of the dark and of the boom-booms. But we didn't give in. We both realize that if we do, we'll end up in a terrible cycle of sleep problems. So we covered you in your blanket and gave you kisses, then walked away to cringe until you eventually tuckered yourself out with the yelling.
We thought we'd give a nightlight a go to see if it might make a difference. Tonight we all trooped to Target and selected a Nemo nightlight. (Bonus...it was clearance priced at $2.44!) I, honestly, was skeptical. You're so alert to any changes in your room. I just didn't think you'd be that open to the light. If we leave a sock on the top of your dresser, or if there's a book on the floor, we have to put it all away before you go to bed. "Put dat 'way, Mommy," you often order.
But once Daddy plugged in Nemo, you were fascinated. A big smile broke out and you peered at it closely. At bedtime, you fussed as you normally do when we finished the last story, and I could hear the fretting as I put you in the crib, but we pointed out Nemo and turned off the light so you could see the way it looked. It totally lights up your room. And when we closed the door, you made one little peepl. Just one. No crying at all. So maybe, just maybe, this will be just the thing to help with the night-night blues.