DIZMOMMY > Toddler Life: I'm Doomed


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May 9, 2014

Toddler Life: I'm Doomed

Days are shorter but busier, the house is [much] messier, and my mind is almost always cluttered since I’ve become a parent. I’ve learned to expect nothing because our lives are in constant flux. Dylan’s changing, I’m changing, and surprises are everywhere as we move through time. Keeping up with an ever-growing toddler is pretty ambitious (and entertaining). Right now (and for what I suspect will be forever) Dylan is testing me. 

“Oh, he does that now.” I say to my husband as we discuss the day’s happenings. 
“He’s getting too clever.” My husband replies, as our conversation about Dylan begins to sound more like a conversation about being outdone by an unsuspecting opponent. 

There is an electrical outlet in Dylan’s room that I simply cannot baby proof. For whatever stupid reason, the light in his closet has a cord that plugs into the outlet outside of the closet. Huh? Yeah, I don’t know. But Dylan loves the cord, especially because he’s been instructed not to touch it. And because it's forbidden, he wanted that dang outlet before he could even roll over. When he finally learned to crawl, he would sit in front of the outlet, look at me and reach out like, “Look, I’m not touching it.” Walking afforded him a little more freedom because he’s able to run from room to room, so he “secretly” tugs on the cord when I’m not playing his shadow. Note to son: The light is unplugged and I know the cord didn’t fall out of the outlet. Just sayin’. 

So Dylan’s upped the ante. He’s comfortable aka he’s trouble. While we both sat in his room, he looked at me, ran to the cord, and pulled on it. “DYLAN…NO.” I commanded. Yes, it’s STILL off limits. I put the cord back in and stepped away. Moments later he was back at the outlet. The second he thought I wasn’t looking, he went for it (sneaky pants); prompting an I-mean-business, “Mommy said NO!” 

Without skipping a beat, he turned around and let out the sweetest, most gentle and distracting, “Hiiii!”, lifting his hand to motion a little wave with a big smile. His attempt to totally change the subject almost worked. This is life with Dylan, a master manipulator. His little “hi! I haven’t seen you all day! What’s up mom?” attitude almost works on me. “I am a firm disciplinarian!” I remind myself. Dylan picks up on my stance and realizes that I have yet to be sold and I’m still going to plug that cord back into the wall. So he takes it to some next level shit: He grabs my shoulders, leans in, and kisses me. 

Game over. Dylan wins. My husband’s right, he’s getting too clever. We’re all doomed.

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