In the Becker household, there is much news of the everyday, mundane sort. There are lots of small happenings, slippery to the memory. I struggle daily with whether it’s more important to document it or sleep. As I get older, the sleep team seems to be having more and more winning seasons.
In particular, Sam is potty training. This is a painful event for boys, by the way. I kid you not when I say that it took me two solid years to potty train John. So, I have been in no hurry to begin the process with Sam. But one Wednesday night, he randomly came home from daycare with a strong desire to wear Spiderman underwear, so we humored him. He immediately trained himself to pee every two hours or so, and we rewarded him with Hershey’s kisses. But the child is terrified of actually sitting on the toilet, so #2 continues to evade him. His preferred method lately has been to hide behind a piece of furniture, do his job, and then gyrate his little body until the poop escapes the underwear, slides down his pantsleg, and rockets out the bottom of his pants, staining his socks and shoes on its way out. This does not bother me if he does it upstairs, where there is no carpet. In fact, it is preferable to wiping a diaper-clad butt onto which the poop has been pressed and encrusted. But there is only so much of this that one can take.
In other Sam news, he has recently been agreeing to take bites of vegetables. Prior to now, he would absolutely refuse, go to bed hungry, and wake up famished. Now he agrees to take a bite, which has TWICE.THIS.WEEK led to barfing on the table. The first time it happened was when he ate a half of a sliver of a quarter of a lima bean, which I had used a paring knife to slice for him. He barfed milk onto the table. That was a few days ago. Then tonight I tried again with a raw carrot, which I encouraged him to dip into hummus (his favorite snack). He leaned over his chair and vomited turkey slices onto the floor.
Yes, I know you did not want those details. Neither did I.
Our other child has been relatively easy to manage lately because his paternal grandmother bought him an iPod. His maternal grandmother got him a $25 iTunes gift card, so he is set. We have discovered that the combination of “Rockin Robin,” “Old Time Rock ‘n’ Roll,” “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap,” and some terrible Top 40 songs can occupy him for hours. Between that and his remote control helicopter, I barely need to parent him. Which is good, because I do not have a good track record with patient parenting. He is getting immaculate grades at school though there has been a report of a "too competitive and possibly hostile" nature during recess.
And now it’s 10:33 p.m., and I need sleep. There may be unpleasant body fluids on the floor, but I cannot resist the urge to post an update.
Onward, upward, and sideways,
k
