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Let me explain: the naughty corner has been good to us (thank you Super Nanny), but Liam is growing up, and the time has come to further explore the world of toddler discipline. Mostly because Liam has noticed that a naughty corner threat issued while I'm nursing Olivia isn't worth the paper it's printed on. So, although the naughty corner is still an important and valued part of our day,* we needed backup. Enter the naughty box (thank you Kari S.).
Here's how it works: Liam does something he isn't supposed to do, like, say, throw a toy. I then say, quite calmly, "If you throw that toy again, it will go in the naughty box." Liam pirks up immediately, "No, not inna naughty box." And usually there's no throwing. You see, as long as I focus in on the toy that is most desirable at that particular moment, there is nothing I can't get that boy to do. Brush his teeth. Stay in bed. Pick up his toys. Try chicken pot pie. For that is how he gets a toy back out: by doing a good deed without pitching a fit.
So right now I am feeling that infrequent sort of joy that comes from discovering a form of discipline that my child hates. Of course, I was also euphoric about the naughty corner when it was new, and it didn't take long for Liam to poke holes into that system. I'm sure that will happen to the naughty box too, but for now Mark and I are really enjoying it (maybe even a bit too much, but that's euphoria for you).
* You may have noticed that everything from the cat to a kite have ended up in the naughty corner at one time or another (but not Olivia yet, surprisingly), so it's still very useful. And it's just part of our weird little world. When a young friend of Liam's whacked him in the head the other day, the first words Liam managed to get out through the tears were a call for justice: "inna corn!"
he's playing dress up. Well, most of the time he's playing trains or reading books. I know, because I've listened at the door. And occasionally he sneaks out of his room entirely to play in the bathroom sink, which I sometimes ignore and sometimes put a stop to, depending on my mood. But each and every time he skips his nap (which is one or two times a week), he changes his outfit.
Now, you may have noticed that I do not put Liam in sweats unless we're just hanging around the house or he's going to gymnastics. And that his socks always match his pants. (What? You didn't notice that? Seriously, watch for it.) But Liam always chooses to go ultra-casual apres nap. And he never thinks to change his socks.
Yes, those pants are on backwards. So far, he's batting 50/50.
Olivia is two months old today. Already. And she went to the doctor and has some new stats: she is two feet and one quarter inch tall, she weighs twelve (yes, twelve) pounds, twelve ounces, and her head measures fifteen and 7/8 inches. Trust me, that's a lot of baby for two months old; she's grown almost three inches over the last six weeks. And it puts her in the 90-95 percentile across the board (so she's also very proportional, thank you very much). In honor of the occasion, we took some pictures.
And, since the camera was available, Liam got a hold of it and took a few pictures too. There were quite a few shots of his feet, but this one turned out nicely.
And speaking of Liam, check out this happy little boy:
What's that? Time for bath? Better check the map.
We're all flying back to Halifax shortly, so I've been preparing Liam for the trip. I've gone over all the forms of transportation we will take to get there (our car, shuttle bus, airport train, airplane, bus again, airplane again, Uncle James' car) and, as you might expect, he's hugely excited. He has no real clue about where we're going, but he's happy about it. And one of the best parts? He gets to take a suitcase. It seems to be one of those bizarre toddler things: they love using the vacuum, they love to wash dishes, and they love to pull a suitcase around. And Liam has a new suitcase all picked out:
Yup, that's right: a Dora the Explorer rolling backpack. It even comes with Dora's actual backpack attached. And her map. In not-so-manly shades of pink and purple. But please understand that Liam loves Dora the Explorer. Every time we go to Target, he beelines for the luggage department to pick this puppy up (well, one very much like it) and drags it around behind him the whole time we shop. He even plops down on the floor, fingers stroking some imaginary beard, to contemplate the map, "Hmmmm, where'd we go now?" Oh, and, of course, he always throws a royal fit when we leave without buying it. Honestly, this has been going on for months, so of course I want to get it for him. But you probably already know where this is going: Mark says no way.
At this point, is anyone surprised? Remember this?
So what would you do? The backpack isn't expensive and Liam loves it. Honestly, he's dragged around a few toys before, but this is the only thing he's ever asked for over and over while at home. And since the only possible objection is that it looks like a "girl's toy," what's stopping us? Because we'll get a few strange looks at the airport? (We've gotten a bunch wandering around Target, let me tell you.) I have to admit, I do wish he'd just love one of the little boy dinosaur/alien/firetruck backpacks, but he doesn't (he insists the dinosaur and truck backpacks would be too heavy). So. I ask again: what's stopping us?
Let me preface this by saying that we're trapped in the house today and going a bit stir crazy. It's snowing a bunch outside and I can't think of a single place to go.
And, all of a sudden, Liam knows how to use things I'm not sure I want him using. Like the television remote. Seriously, I left the living room this morning with the Today show on and came back to Blue's Clues. I have no idea how he did that. And this morning he got the camera (by climbing up on a chair to get it), turned it on, and took some pictures. Here's what he got:
Not bad, not bad. Then he moved on to shots of me, since I was holding the cat:
Oops, not quite. Try again.
Well, good try. At least he got the partially-folded laundry in the picture. On to something else:
I didn't stop him because I was hoping I'd get a decent shot of my new haircut. Remember the old haircut? I've now left my hairdresser. Or I'm cheating on her, since she has not yet realized that I've left her. And I feel guilty about it, because she really is a nice person, even if she is a bit flighty and has butchered my hair on more than one occasion. Of course I said as much to my new hairdresser in the first five minutes, so she probably thinks I'm flighty too (I guess I thought she'd understand because she looks like Phoebe from Friends). But she has to like me; I love this haircut.
We've been thinking about preschool around here. Or, more accurately, we weren't thinking about preschool at all until my friend Jenn called and asked, "Have you found a preschool yet?" and informed us that most of them start registering right about now. So now, damn it, we were thinking about preschool. Right away Mark started asking around at work. But since all the moms he works with are (duh) working moms, they have different needs (every day, all day) and different budgets (bigger). No help there. So today I tagged along with Jenn as she toured the highly-thought-of preschool at her church, which is right down the road from us.
And it was really nice. Perfect teachers with great educations, wonderful music program, great special events (this week was western week and lo and behold, all the little kids were dressed like cowpeople); they even had an actual little pony and donkey outside giving rides. And it's affordable. Unbelievable.
Problem is, Liam was a disaster from the moment we set foot in the place. He desperately wanted to run off and play with all the cowkids and explore this great big place full of fun stuff. When I wouldn't let him run off, he laid claim to the one and only toy in the entryway: a big inflatable cactus. Whenever another child came close, he would hug the cactus with all his strength and yell, "Mine!" Of course I had Olivia in her bucket seat and had a hard time just with her maneuvering through the people waiting for the tour, let alone with a two-year-old that's gone boneless.
The tour itself turned into a forty-five minute speech about everything you'd ever want to know about the school, so you can imagine how cooperative Liam was by the end of it. We'd pretty much led him around the whole place, showing all the wonderful things to do and all the fun toys to play with, and he wasn't allowed to touch any of it (not even the pony). The highlight for me was when he came across an easel set up with paints and paper and went to work, getting paint on the tour guide/school director's pants in the process (don't think she noticed though). Thank god for Jenn who led him away to play with something else, as I was trapped with Olivia at the back of the crowd. Or maybe the highlight was nearer to the end of the tour when I lost patience and said, too loudly, "Jesus Christ Liam! Stay with me!" In Liam's defense, none of the kids were doing that well near the end. But on the other hand, Liam was trouble from the beginning. Poor Liam. But poor me too; I'm exhausted.
And just to add insult to injury, the paperwork they sent home with us clearly states: "Children who are happy and well loved rarely have discipline problems." I don't even know what to say to that.
Is there any doubt that a space won't be found for us in that school unless we change our names or something? I think we need a plan B, quick.
Liam has napped for five days in a row. It just kind of happened; I would leave him sitting up in bed yelling, "Wait Mommy! Lie down! Wait!" and a few minutes later everything would be quiet. Too quiet. So quiet that on the first day I checked to make sure he hadn't tangled himself up in the cords for the blinds or something. Honestly, when I saw him asleep I almost dropped Olivia.
Then today something equally astonishing happened. You know that phenomenon where small babies fall fast asleep in your arms, then wake up the second you put them down in their beds? Well, today, as Liam's nap-time approached, Olivia was sleeping soundly on my tummy and I had to put her down, hoping that she would stay quiet long enough for Liam's book and cuddle. Of course she didn't stay quiet; she promptly started screaming. So I popped out of Liam's room long enough to plug her, start up her mobile, and pat her tummy a few times. Now, in the past, the mobile has mesmerized both my babies, so my best hope was that Olivia would still be sucking and staring when I returned. Imagine my bliss when I found her sound asleep. I had to take a picture. I wanted to take a picture of Liam too, but deemed it too risky.
Did you notice the ultra-girly outfit? Even the ruffles have ruffles. Anyway, I set out to enjoy some free time. Of course I barely was able to empty the dishwasher (what fun) what with running to the bottom of the stairs to see if A) Olivia was stirring and therefore disturbing her sleeping brother or B) Liam was creeping out of his room and therefore disturbing (or climbing on or picking up or accidentally suffocating) his sleeping sister. After a while I just read a book sitting on the stairs outside their bedroom doors. But even being able to do that made this a happy dance day.
