None of the Above

Baby M is nearly 20 months old and has definite ideas about nearly everything-- how and when to eat, what book to read, which form of transportation to use, what to wear, etc. Every book I've read about toddlers suggests that the key to a happy child is offering him a choice. "Do you want to wear the red bib or the blue bib?" "Shall we take the stroller or walk?" The idea is that by allowing him a choice you give the toddler some control over the situation. He feels empowered and doesn't throw a tantrum. This all sounds good in theory and I've actually seen other moms employ the technique successfully on the playground. Tantrums have been avoided simply by saying, "Oh look, you can play with the green shovel or the fire truck, which do you want?"

Baby M, however, is too smart to fall for this ploy. When I ask him if he would like peas or broccoli he twists around in the high chair and points to the refrigerator shouting "Toast! Toast!" If I say "Let's pick a bib to wear," he wails "Noooo!" He has already learned that just because something isn't displayed doesn't mean it's not available.

It's nice to know that he is going to be an independent thinker and not feel compelled to accept what he is offered. On the other hand, I am really worried about how terrible those terrible twos are going to be. So far Baby M's tantrums have been manageable. We have a few outbursts each day, but the number of kicking and screaming, out-of-control eruptions has been minimal and I'm hoping to keep it that way. Since the whole "choice" strategy isn't working, I'd love to hear other suggestions for avoiding toddler tantrums.

Baby Scientist

Today Baby M was sitting on the floor with some crayons, a pencil and a ball point pen. He was doing a pretty good job of confining his scribbles to the giant pad of paper from Michael's until a particularly energetic scrawl with the pen went careening off the paper and onto Baby M's shin. Baby M stopped and stared at the blue ink on his leg. He rubbed it. He furrowed his brow. Then he picked up the blue crayon and tried to write on his leg. Apparently his hypothesis was that anything blue could write on skin. When the crayon didn't leave a mark on his right leg, he tried writing on his left. Then he picked up the pencil and tried the experiment again. I love watching Baby M learn about his environment. It's really amazing to see the way he figures things out. I mean, really, how do you know that the skin on your right leg is going to act exactly the same as the skin on your left? Then he grabbed the pen again and I could see where his investigation was headed, so I quickly traded him a silver crayon for the pen and averted a potential disaster. I do love watching Baby M learn about the world, but I'm not quite ready for him to be on an episode of LA Ink.

Baby on a Plane

Last week we took a trip to Ann Arbor, Michigan to visit some dear friends and meet their 15 month old, Baby Z. We had a wonderful time; went to the Hands On Museum, hung out at Allmendinger Park, explored the Natural History Museum. We even got to have a night out at the Ark watching Chelsea Williams. When it was time to leave Baby M gave Baby Z a hug and a kiss, stole his cup of Cheerios and we were on our way.

This trip wasn't Baby M's first time on a plane. Nine months ago we took a short flight up the coast to attend my brother's wedding in Northern California. But this was his first long flight and the first flight where I didn't have the option of sticking a boob in his face to calm him down. The flight to Michigan was long, oversold and we ended up sitting for a hour on the tarmac while the crew fixed a mechanical problem. Baby M did well, although the woman in the seat in front of us did not appreciate his fascination with the fold out tray. The flight home was also oversold and Baby M was grouchy from the get go. He was flying as a "lap child" but didn't want to sit with me or my husband. He wanted to crawl around on the floor under the seats, which, as a flight attendant helpfully announced over the intercom, is unsafe. To keep him quiet we plied him with snacks-- everything from my husband's Taco Bell nachos to Annie's Bunny Grahams. About two hours into the 4 and a half hour flight Baby M barfed all over my husband. Thankfully, he missed splashing our row mate and the passengers in the row behind us, but it was still pretty unpleasant for anyone within 15 feet of us.

I must commend my husband's courage as he remained calm and still as Baby M hurled repeatedly onto his chest and shoulder. My husband does not like to be dirty and I was honestly surprised that he did not throw Baby M into my lap at the first sign of spittle. Once the gagging subsided, he took Baby M into the bathroom to get him washed up while I did my best to clean the seat with a receiving blanket and the paper towels and cup of water (with ice!?!) that the flight attendant brought me. Once the seat was as good as it was going to get, I joined the boys in the teeny-tiny airplane lavatory to assess the damage. Baby M, glad to be someplace other than row 15, was in surprisingly good spirits. We got him changed and washed up. My husband's shirt was a lost cause. We shoved it down the lavatory trash chute and I brought him another shirt from his bag. Luckily all of our luggage was carry on (we are efficient packers and too cheap to pay the checked baggage fee). I always carry a spare outfit for Baby M in my diaper bag, but we never would have thought to bring a spare outfit for Daddy. Even with this somewhat sour ending, our trip to Ann Arbor was great and we learned a few tips for our next airplane ride with Baby M (mainly Taco Bell and babies don't mix).