Friday, January 18, 2008

The New Meltdown Causing Agent: Bubbles

I think I've glimpsed the future.

I think I'm scared.

Oh I had an inkling exactly sixteen months ago. That was when I held my 8lb baby and watched her face turn purple in frustration. Her wail was tiny and music to my ears. Several nurses made the comment that she had a temper. I just laughed. I mean how can you really tell when they are that little anyway.

Famous last words.

I signed up for "as you grow" emails. These are weekly narratives that tell me all about my baby's developement and what to expect for the week. Sometimes it's not even close to what my baby is doing. Sometimes it's dead on.

I wondered when I read about tantrums if they would be visiting with us soon. Let's just say I can wonder no more. They are here. Everyone QUICK duck and hide.

I know I wish I could take cover. Yesterday and Today's tantrums were brought to me by something so simple and so much fun. Bubbles. The baby loves them. Obessively loves them (which I honestly have no idea where she gets this whole obessive thing from ~whistles innocently~). Her daycare has them. We have them here at home.

Heck, Santa even brought a bubble machine. We can have a room full of bubbles at the flick of a switch. But to the baby, it's not the same as those bubbles at daycare. She doesn't have unlimited access to them, like ours, at home.

She has to share.

Today, I picked her up and she brought me over to them. Showed me the shelf. Looked up at me with her blue eyes and said "mine".

I explained to her that they belonged on the shelf. Then I picked her up, kicking and screaming and we left the building.

The car ride home? More kicking and screaming.

The next 45 minutes at home? More kicking and screaming.

I'm not going to lie here and say I could tune it out and it didn't bother me. The dog was howling for pete's sake. As I watched her, colapsing in a heap on the floor, eyes covered, sobbing,

I thought to myself ... where do we go from here? I had visions of future vengance toward anyone who wrongs her.

She's cute, blonde, firey and not even TWO.

Heaven help us all.

1 comment:

Amy said...

the good news is these stages pass. The bad news is they are often replaced by something simliar, such as, in 10 years she won't be crying over bubbles, but over the $300 game she really really really wants. In 15 years, she'll be crying over the $700 prom dress she just has to have or the $30K car she has her heart set on.

(But again, I thank you for reminding me why I'm grateful that I don't have a toddler in my home!)