1) I needed to go to dentist, and when informed of this fact, Fuzzy started whining and crying that he didn't want me to leave. I left him in the living room throwing a little tantrum. A few minutes later, he came into the kitchen and said, "Mama, I feel betta' now. I will let you go to the dentist."
2) Ever since our visit to California over the holidays, Fuzzy hadn't sleep all the way through the night - he either crawled into bed with The Pitt, or made Daddy sleep in his room on a mattress on the floor. Finally, I decided enough was enough, and we had a serious conversation/bribing session. I began by telling him that he's was a big boy, and that big boys sleep by themselves. Fuzzy presented a counterargument: "But Daddy *likes* to sweep on the mattress!"
At this point I decided to capitalize on his new interest in fairy tales, and presented him with a book I'd purchased for the occasion. I showed him that it had *so* many new stories, and and then informed him that unfortunately, these stories were only for big boys who slept in their own rooms without Daddy. Further discussions on this topic led to him actually leaving us alone at night.*
*Sort of related and funny - after I told him that the new book had stories and fairy tales, he kept asking me where the tails were in each story. Explanations of homonyms did not help.
3) On the morning of my birthday, Fuzzy started throwing up at 3 AM. Daddy took care of him until about 7 AM, when he proceeded to crawl into bed with me. I left him watching cartoons on the iPad while I showered, only to hear the unmistakable sounds of puking as I turned off the water. After I stripped the bed, pulled off Fuzzy's pajamas, and put him in the shower to wash off, he finally stopped crying, and instead started apologizing: "I sowee I few up on your bed Mama."
I reassured him that it wasn't his fault, and after a few minutes, he started to smile. "Happy Birthday MAMA!" he said, as I finished washing the puke from his hair. While it wasn't precisely the scenario I had anticipated to start the day, The Pit salvaged it with an amazing Pavlova cake, which we fed to our puking child. I mean, if you're going to throw up anyway, you might as well throw up cake.
4) After Fuzz spent one afternoon constantly smacking Sprout, I set him aside and to try and explain why this was a bad idea. "You need to be nice to your brother, show him how to do things, show him how to play. Not hit him. If you are nice to him and show him how to do things, he'll grow up and be able to play with you." Fuzzy gave this some thought, and then brightened up, "...and THEN I can hit him!"
As evidenced from the picture below though, he is sometimes nice to his brother:
5) Then again, a few days ago, I found myself saying something I never thought I'd have to say: "Stop wiping your nose on your brother's hair!"
6) I guess it's a right of passage of some type for toddlers - Fuzzy has started adorably mispronouncing the word 'animal.' For example, once he gathers all his stuffed toys, he turns to me and announces: "All my aminals are on da bed!"
10 months ago