Toddler logic
I only want what I can’t have.
This is the mantra of the Munchkin. It explains much of her behavior.
For instance, yesterday. She went to the nursery, as usual. She had a hissy fit about being left, as usual. Now, we were only going to one service yesterday (unusual), because there is no more adult Sunday School for the rest of the summer. I find that personally disappointing, because I like adult Sunday School, and now I have nothing to do during first service (the Webmaster has choir every other week, both services). Anyway, the Munchkin had her fit, but I left her in the hands of 3 junior high students who were subbing for the regularly-scheduled nursery workers, one of whom the Munchkin knows fairly well (being a family friend who should not be old enough to be in junior high).
My pager went off before worship was over. I don’t want to disparage the kids, because they are only in junior high and not overly experienced, but they simply couldn’t take the Munchkin’s crying and called me back in. I couldn’t stay (Little Cousin was going to be dedicated and I had to take pictures), which only made matters worse for the Munchkin. So her grandma came to her rescue, and brought her into the service, where she fell asleep for a while until her teeth began bothering her again. She’s trying to cut her 2 year molars early. Then I took her out for the rest of the service.
The point of this whole story? The Munchkin was so far gone that even goldfish crackers – ordinarily a big treat for her and a nursery staple – could not tempt her. Later, she wanted them (after she was sitting in Mommy’s lap), but only after she got her way.
And then we come to this morning. Due to the teething pain (and even with the infants’ Motrin), the Munchkin isn’t sleeping well during the night. So she woke up at 7 am this morning, yelling for someone to come get her. Having had a lousy night of sleep myself (thanks to Munchkin #2 and allergies), I poked the Webmaster and he went into automatic drive – get bottle, change diaper, bring Munchkin to our room. I even caved on the morning bottle milk quantity in hopes of keeping her quiet for a while and putting off having to get up to feed her breakfast, and told the Webmaster to give her 4 ounces instead of 3.
The Munchkin, dry-diapered and with “ba-ba” in hand, snuggles up to me in bed. All is well until she hands me the “ba-ba.” “Aw gon,” she tells me.
The little liar. I hand it back to her. She takes one more swig and hands it to me again. “Aw gon,” she insists. She is done with it.
Bleary-eyed, I take a closer look.
She drank an ounce and a half.
She now proceeds to sing and dance and bounce around in hopes of getting us to join in the fun. Her father and I just want more sleep, but that is not going to happen. Grumbling, I swear she’s not eating breakfast until 9.
She begs to get in her highchair at 8:20. I comply, too tired to fight it. She eats about a third of a cup of strawberry yogurt, refuses a banana (takes one bite after I start eating it), and eats half a slice of cinnamon toast. Takes off her bib at least 3 times, insisting that she’s done.
After all, she only wants what she can’t have.
She has not watched any TV this morning, though. The sweet freedom of Sesame Street is just a few minutes away for me, and then I will begin plotting my revenge. Such as lunch at noon and then straight to a nap. And only 2 ounces of milk tomorrow morning. That’s if she doesn’t break my will first. Or if I don’t fall asleep myself.
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