Two-year-old’s generally just scream or throw a tantrum when they want something, don’t want something or, in general, just want to bug the hell out of you.
Not our two-year-old. No. She had to become particularly adept at language. She had to pick up words and sentences faster than most kids. We don’t have the luxury of a wailing, kicking child. Sure, she does that when the mood strikes. And with a toddler, predicting that mood is akin to predicting when the Boston Red Sox will win the World Series. Impossible. You never know what will set it off, how it will manifest itself, or what sort of destruction will rain down upon the house.
But Gertrude generally eschews the screaming fits unless it involves her least-preferred parent of the moment giving her a bath. Instead, she bargains, manipulates, cajoles and rationalizes.
“Gertrude, it’s time for bed.”
“Ten minutes!”
“No, it’s bed time now.”
“In two minutes.”
“No, now.”
“What time is it?”
“Huh? You can’t tell time.”
“Ten more minutes.”
Where did she learn this? I don’t understand. But it doesn’t stop there. No, bargaining for time isn’t her only talent. Righteous indignation is another.
“Daddy, I want Wiggle nocks (Wiggle snacks).”
“Not right now honey. It’s almost dinner time.”
“But Daddy it’s not fair!”
Fair? She’s already discussing fairness with me? She’s wailing about the injustice of time?
But she also has her moments of diversion.
“Gertrude, it’s time to put your shoes on.”
“Not right now.”
“Yes, right now. We have to go pick up Matilda.”
“I do it later.”
“We have to do it now.”
“I make a surprise!” (She hands me a picture.)
“That’s very nice. But we have to put your shoes on.”
“Mommy do it.”
“But mommy isn’t home.”
“Oh. Mommy do it when she get home?”
“Well, no. Matilda needs to come home now.”
“I wait for mommy.”
How do you argue with the logic of a two-year old? I’d get angry with her if her responses weren’t so undeniably cute.
For example, last night we had ice cream after dinner. But Gertrude didn’t get her own bowl because she didn’t finish her dinner and she ran out of the room before dinner was done. For some reason, she understood this and was happy to snag a random spoonful from mom.
“I have a bite?” Sure. And she ran out of the room. Two minutes later.
“I need more ice cream,” and she opens her mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Please.” She gets the pay off. Runs out of the room. Two minutes later she’s back.
“I have more ice cream?” And we start the please debate. She’s hesitating, not saying it. So mommy eats the dripping spoonful of ice cream.
“Hey! That my bite!” There’s that righteous indignation again.
So, the question is, did she get her ice cream eventually?
Well, when she woke up this morning she announced, “My tummy is full of ice cream!” When I asked her if I had a tummy full of ice cream she said, “No. You can have medicine.”
I am doomed.
Discuss
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