Thursday, February 26, 2009

It's starting...

Saturday night, Dominic hung out with his Nana while Daddy went to the USC basketball game with Nano and Mama went to 2 birthday parties with Gram and Granddaddy. Sunday, he was absolutely like the smiliest, happiest, sweetest little boy he had ever been, which is saying a lot because he's normally pretty sweet. Click superhappysmilie to see a picture from that candy-sweet day.

Then came Monday.

It started with us in the garage ... I was loading clothes into the washer and dryer. He was tinkering with the little car he got for Christmas like he usually does while I'm launder-ing. But then when I was done, and it was time for us to go back into the house, he wouldn't come. Ok it's not the first time that's happened. But normally I go over to him and just break his concentration from the fun that he is having and he easily switches to whatever activity I want him to switch to, in this case walking into the house.

Not this time. This time as I lift/turn his little body toward the door with my usual "ok, sweetheart, it's time to go in now" song, he pulls his legs up under him so when I go to set him down, there's no legs to stand him on. I dip him up and down a bit trying to get the legs to unfold to a standing position, but no luck. So I set him gently down onto his bottom figuring he just wants to get up himself. Uh... no. I end up carrying his writhing body inside. Once inside, however, he returns to his sweet obedient self.

One point for me, I think to myself.

Not 1 hour later, though, he is beside me in the master bathroom while I'm fixing my hair. He has opened the drawer in my bathroom cabinet and is doing what he always does: reaching above his eye level, feeling around in the drawer, taking out whatever feels interesting, examining it, and dropping it on the floor. Every other day, when I'm done fussing with my hair, I turn to him and instruct him to put all the items - chapstick, hair elastic, makeup brush, band-aid, etc - back into the drawer and then to close it.

This time, he pretty much tells me "no". As much no as one can say without using the word "no" since he isn't talking at all yet.

He makes a complaining noise and starts to walk off.
I pick him up and return him to his little pile of articles and reissue the instruction.
More sounds of complaining.
He picks up the chapstick and I think we're making progress.
I say "That's it, sweetheart, put it in the drawer right here" {pointing}
He throws it on the floor in obvious defiance.

Hmmm.

He starts to walk off. When I pick him up and return him to the scene of the crime, the leg buckling behavior from the garage incident is repeated. When I set him on his bottom and repeat the instruction to pick up the items and put them back in the drawer, he starts to cry.

The beautiful thing is that I'm really not losing my patience at all during this. I attribute this levelheadedness to an episode of "The Dog Whisperer" I saw just the previous night. I keep hearing in my mind that I need to be "calm-assertive". I consciously focus on my belief that children test their parents to see if they can be trusted so they know if it's true when Mama says "I will be right back" or "There are no monsters in there". I want Dominic to be able to trust me. I remember my brother warning me not to make any threats I'm not willing to carry out.

I tell Dominic I know he's normally such a good helper and all this crankiness must mean he is tired. I say "C'mon, sweetheart, let's pick up these things," and I try to force his little hand to close around the chapstick. Hysterics ensue.

No biggie. I say, "Aww, Angel Boy! You are always such a good helper. You must be just sooo tired to be this cranky. How about we go into your room and you can rest in your crib a few minutes and think about this?"

I carry Mr. Hysterics to his room. You can really tell he is super tired, way early for his naptime. Maybe it's a growth spurt after his super happycute day? I set him in his crib and tell him I love him and I will come get him after he rests so we can pick up the things.

1 minute and 30 seconds later (we didn't call it a "time out" or a "naughty spot", but the Nanny says those "rest times" should be 1 minute per year of age, right?), Dominic is calm in and standing in his crib. I come ask him if he's ready to pick up the things. He is quiet. I carry him to my bathroom where he picks up the hair scrunchy and lifts it into the open drawer above his head. I exclaim, "There you go, Angel Boy! That's my big helper!" After he gets item #2, I help with the other 3-4 items.

5 minutes later, about an hour before his normal naptime, he is out like a light.

Thanks, Cesar Milan. Thanks, Jesus!

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