All Growed UpMarch 28, 2012 at 3:58 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment
Overnight, it seems, Liam has gone from my sensitive, temperamental baby to a grown up, reasonable little boy. Perhaps potty training started the ball rolling. He’s been sitting on the potty like a champ, not even requesting rewards every time. Tomorrow we’re off the beach, our first serious outing since we threw out the diapers. I figured Playalinda would be a nice, secluded place to try standing up to pee in the bushes. Knock on wood that will help him conquer his reservations about standing at the big toilet.
For months Liam has whined at every stop light, my little backseat driver. I tried everything to get him to stop – cajoling, bribery, yelling and threats. But what finally did the trick was convincing him he had to say magic words to make the light turn green. So at every stop light we say, “Bibbity, bobbity, boo,” waving our hands and pointing to the stoplight at “boo”. And it totally works! He’ll say it over and over, sometimes insisting that I join him. Sure beats the whining.
Today at the playground we met another boy about his age. Unsurprisingly he was much bigger and almost a year younger. His mom and I got to chatting, and the boys played on the slides. Liam even went up and asked the boy to play with him. Unfortunately the other boy was a bit of a bruiser, and after giving Liam a few well-placed smacks on the head, play time was pretty much over. I felt bad for the mom – I think she was really embarrassed. But I remembered when Liam was just over the two mark, it was impossible to explain to him not to hit. Thankfully Liam never hit anyone when he was that age (just me and James). But after Liam calmed down, he went up to the boy and said, “No hitting.” The boy took his hand, which Liam took as an apology, and while he kept his wary distance, he did play with him a bit longer.
After lunch we headed to Avalon All-Stars for a hair cut. All the way there I told Liam that if he wore the cape (“Like Superman!”) we could get ice cream afterward. But if he refused like he has always done, no ice cream. And you know what? It totally worked! I couldn’t believe it. Even the hair dresser, who’s gotten to know how much Liam hates haircuts over the months we’ve been going there, remarked, “It’s like a whole new Liam!” And it was so nice not to have the strip him down and get all of that hair off his clothes, then put him in the bath when we got home. Instead we had some ice cream at our favorite ice cream shop, then came home and washed hands at the sink.
This afternoon as Liam played with his toys, he told me, “I need a baby brother.” Uh oh.