Things I should never say to my son #43: "Honey, you're making Mama want to kill herself." Stacy also says I'm not allowed to say that to her. Fair enough! Point made. Let's move on and KEEP ON LIVING!
So, yeah, it was a rough day. Gavin, bless his heart (who ever says that re: someone they're not just about to complain about?), is growing like a mad man and his personality is getting bigger as his legs get longer and his mouth gets toothier. So when he's happy it's much more vibrant and intense. He's much more expressive. But when he's pissed, oh my, watch out. Happy Gavin is to a fireworks display what Angry Gavin is to a gas station on fire. And he has so much to get angry about now. For one thing, he's developing preferences. Take bananas, for instance. If there are bananas in the house and you want him to eat anything else you'd better hide the bananas. And hide them good. Putting them anywhere he can even think he sees a banana and it's scream city until you're slicing and quartering a Chiquita for him.
Another thing that drives him to the brink is The Art of the Possible. Specifically being aware of his limitations. Now when he wants to do something that he is not, say, tall or strong or coordinated enough to do he throws a fit. Not each and every time, mind you. If he's in a good mood he might just make some growling sounds and go about his day. But if he's tired or hungry, watch out. If he's tired and hungry, wear a helmet because it's going to be a bumpy ride. And speaking of bumpy, one of his new things is to bump his head against the wall or his crib rail or any other hard surface. Mostly he does it gently enough so that it doesn't seem to hurt, but other times he kicks it up a notch. I think he's just testing things out, figuring out what he can and can't control. Hitting his head is not new territory for my little bruiser, but it's always been something that's happened to him, not something he could make happen. So maybe that's an exciting discovery in baby world.
And then there's "No." A word he's hearing an awful lot of these days and liking less and less every time he hears it. "No," obviously, doesn't effectively communicate, "Don't put the computer cord in your mouth or you'll electrocute yourself and die and Mama will have to go to jail and/or an insane asylum and then who will take care of Henri?" Not that he would understand that. Still, "no" to Gavin just means "I don't want you to have any fun." He's got x-ray vision for any and all potential hazards in a room and heads straight for them. Exposed electrical socket? "No, Gavin, no touch." Crazy miniature poodle in a crate that's oh so fun to bang on? "No, Gavin, that's Henri's crate. He's resting." Paperclip on the floor? "No, Gavin, not for mouths" (or, if he's picked it up but is not putting in his mouth, "Oh, thank you, Gavin. Can you give that to me?" with a big smile and an outstretched palm. He likes this game a lot. For now). Most of these are followed by "the redirect," which currently consists of physically moving him somewhere else and attempting to get his attention focused on something else. "Let's play with your truck," or "Here's your walker, Gavin, run for your life."
I took Gavin to Kids Club at the gym today for the first time. I used the elliptical machine for a half hour while he played. Or at least I presume he played. When we arrived, three other kids, two sitting at a table coloring and one toddling around next to them, were there with one attendant. She did not volunteer her name and so I asked her and she told me but it wasn't a name familiar to me and I forgot it almost as soon as she said it. While she was checking Gavin in, the oldest girl, who was maybe 4 at the most, gave the youngest girl a crayon. Now, the youngest girl was about Gavin's age at most, though she seemed a little younger. She was clearly too young to have crayons. The attendant wasn't paying attention to her because she was busy with me, so I kept my eye on the girl in case she started to put the crayon in her mouth. I saw her write on the chair, but I didn't care about that. Thankfully the attendant turned and saw the contraband crayon and took it away. Gavin was kind of shy at first, not wanting to go in the door. I had to pick him up and step in with him. The attendant offered him a couple of trucks and he took one in each hand. When I got there to pick him up a half hour later he still had the trucks in his hands. He was the last kid out (Kids Club closes at noon and doesn't reopen again until 4. The hours aren't very convenient). The attendant was sitting on the carpet with him. He was really happy to see me and seemed happy in general. I think he had fun. But my faith in Kids Club is, at best, shaky.
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