Beanie and Bug, sharing a kiss.
I love the crap out of my kids…and I love how much they love each other.
It’s hard being a little kid.
You know what you want in your head, but you can’t always articulate it.
And sometimes, you know the words, but don’t know what they mean.
It works both ways, yknow.
Take for instance, Beanie.
Every morning when she wakes up, she says, “Daddy, I want to wear a…tutu!” [The fact that she awesomely pronounces it "tew-tew" makes it THAT much better.]
So I dig through her closet and show her tutus. “No, Daddy, Hava wear a…tew-tew!”
So I dig some more.
“No, Daddy! Hava wear a…tew-tew!”
And then it hits me: Beanie has absolutely NO idea what a tutu actually is.
But only wants to wear tutus.
One of the most beautiful thing about toddlers is their complete lack of self-consciousness.
They act and react purely – it’s brutally honest.
But sometimes, it’s amazing.
We, as a culture, find flatulence absolutely hilarious.
Someone farts, we laugh.
I always thought the humor was socially-invented – that a toot is this awkward moment where gases are stronger than the muscles keeping them in, thus, we laugh at those who lack said muscular control.
But I was dead wrong.
Farts are just plain funny.
Tonight, while getting Beanie ready for bed, she let one RIP! And then another one!
Instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, what did she do?
My two-year-old daughter lost her MIND laughing for a solid minute!
THAT’S how inherently funny the fart was to her.
Not gonna lie…I laughed right along with her.
A few months ago, I wrote about Kitchen Poop., when Beanie pooped on the kitchen floor around her second birthday. It was an…ahem…solid experience that Beanie dropped on us.
If that were the first and last time our floor was so fecally soiled, it would have been a miracle.
On Sunday nights, we like to enjoy a nice dinner as a family sitting around our kitchen table; usually, some sort of salmon is our main dish.
On this particular, nondescript Sunday night, my mother-in-law was in town from Texas. We had cooked a delicious spiced baked salmon, with broccoli and quinoa. A lovely meal, really.
The Wife and I were still eating and Beanie was playing with some grains of quinoa, while Bug was being fussy. My mother-in-law grabbed the Bug to calm him down.
Beanie asked for some more salmon, and as I was cutting her a piece, a strange, wet “splatting” sound range through the room.
The adults all looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
All eyes went to the four-month-old Bug, sitting on his grandmother’s lap, sporting the biggest grin of satisfaction any of use had ever seen.
“Oh my god,” said The Wife. “Bug pooped on the floor!”
And there is was, seeping out of his diaper into a gooey, nasty puddle on our kitchen floor, making a detour on my mother-in-law’s leg.
It took Beanie nearly two years to poop on the kitchen floor…and her baby brother did it in just four months.
As chronicled in this space, we’ve been working to potty train Beanie. She’s a little on the young side, having just turned two years old this summer, but we wanted to try to get it done sooner rather than later.
Our little experiment lasted….four days.
While Beanie did quite well at home without a diaper, her constant accidents at daycare (nearly a dozen in two days) made it clear that she is not quite ready.
So we slowed down the potty training and let her get comfortable again – trying to rebuild the potty as a happy place where dreams come true…or something like that.
Beanie hates pajama bottoms.
All parents know that you have to pick your battles, and, honestly, whether or not she wore pants over her diaper was not a battle we cared to fight.
Until one recent morning…
I went to wake Beanie up and was sitting up in her bed, wearing a big smile, a t-shirt, and nothing else.
Her diaper was crumpled in the middle of the floor.
Scanning the scene, I walked over to her bed to assess what really happened.
Like an idiot, I placed my hand on her bed, right next to her.
When I picked it up off the mattress, it was, naturally, soaked in urine.
Frustrated, confused and now wet, I was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.
“Hava, what happened?” I asked her.
“An elephant!” she responded.
“Beanie….did you take off your diaper?
“Beanie…did you take off your diaper and give it to the elephant?”
Clearly, we need a better video monitor.
I’m not a big “time out” person, but it is definitely an important part of the parenting toolkit.
Beanie, who turned two in June, is starting to really understand when she does something wrong, so we, as parents, have to reinforce the good behavior and then make sure she realizes the difference between good and bad.
Part of that is the “time out” process.
But Beanie doesn’t really know what “time out” is, so we’ve leveraged what she DOES know, which is “Not Nice.”
Thus was born “The Not-Nice Corner,” where people go when they are being not nice.
Recently, Beanie had a spat of hitting people, which landed her in the Not-Nice Corner for the first time.
I had to carry her over there; have you ever met a kid that went to “time out” willingly?
In between her tears, she screamed, I kid you not, “Balki did it!!!!”
Balki, of course, is our dog.
Nice try, kiddo.
We spent this weekend trying to potty train Beanie with a pantsless weekend. I chronicled many of the events in the Storify below.
Of note, no poop on the floor! Only a few wet spots on the carpet and nothing too difficult.
We’re proud of the Bean. She has a ways to go, but she was a trooper this weekend.
We chatted about the changing role of the father in parenting structures, how dads can support breastfeeding, and several other topics.
While The Wife was nursing Beanie, I blogged weekly for Bravado, as the first-ever dad breastfeeding blogger. (You can check those stories here)
I’m not the target audience for their primary products of nursing bras and tanks, but, The Wife swears by the products and has used them during pregnancy and nursing stages for both of our kids.