Monday, April 23, 2012
He's A Mean One These Days
Beyond pooping on themselves and attempting to grab it, waking up ready to party at 5am no matter what time you put them down the night before, and seeking out their own physical demise on a pretty much hourly basis, they have some seriously warped social behaviors.
For example, the grabbing stage. Also known as the biting stage, whacking stage, or pinching stage.
I have a grabber.
Oh yeah. That Mr. Stinky Pants. He’s a mean one these days.
A couple days ago we were at the mall playplace (I know, I must go there a lot), and there was this super sweet little girl around 13 months toddling around, kind of following Stinker, who was of course sprinting around the mat like a bat outta hell while yelling “apple” [which is odd, considering none of us had an apple].
So this little munchkin walks up to my 2-year-old (looking rather calm and innocuous I might add), Stinker's looking at her like he fears she might knife him, or steal his imaginary apple (oh I don’t know I’M GUESSING).
And just as this little girl gets close, Stink stares her down with the toddler death eyes and just gives it to her. BOOM! Grabs her little cheek like a little hellion.
My heart jumps. I immediately hold Mr. Stinky Pant’s arm down, telling him “no” and “gentle.” He’s looking at me like “Whatevs, mom. That kid was all up in my business.” I tentatively release his arm and BOOM! He does it again. I move him. I apologize profusely.
Usually mothers are pretty understanding, well, if they have a kid who’s been through this stage. The fellow playplace mom was way cool – apparently her innocent-looking toddler assaulted some unsuspecting newborn at a recent playdate. Score. Real mothers. LOVE THEM.
But most of the first-time mothers whose kids haven’t reached this jewel of a phase look at me like I’m some sort of trash-dwelling creature with trash-dwelling creature offspring. I wonder if they think we all walk around the house grabbing each other’s faces when we’re mad.
You know, they’re still all smug and crud, basking in the infinite goodness and purity of their little bundle. Sure it’s never going to change.
Just wait, lady. Your little beam of sunshine will soon be gnawing the nose off her friend’s face.
And you’ll feel bad. Soooo bad. And you’ll get embarrassed. And you’ll look up quickly at the eyes of the mother, wondering what you’re gonna get: “Oh, no worries. My baby does that too!” — or that face. That furrowed brow and quick sweep picking up her baby and moving away – the face and body and gesture all saying “Come on, honey, let’s get away from this obviously deranged toddler and his obviously subpar mother.”
When those women, those “If you were a better parent your kids wouldn’t be such delinquents” women look at me with that face of disdain, I like to imagine the day when they get the call from the school informing them that their little Johnny bit Sally on her forehead during Circle Time.
Payback’s a "you-know-who".
But for now, I'll just go upon my business trying to keep my little grabber from ripping the cheeks off of innocent baby bystanders. Wish me luck!