Baby's Baby

Siena's hit another observable developmental milestone: she now plays Mommy.

Siena has three baby dolls, all of whom she's named "Baby." How do we tell them apart? It's all context; you have to be there, for example, to know which Baby goes in the toy stroller as opposed to the toy bassinet. This was easier when we lived in a three-story townhouse, and could keep one Baby on each floor. But today her favorite is the largest of the three, "Baby."

How does she play Mommy to Baby? She insists on feeding Baby whenever we all sit down to dinner. When she has food on her fork, she first gives it to Baby for a bite, then eats it herself. She also offers Baby a slug from the sippy cup before partaking herself. She plays Ring Around The Rosie, or as Siena calls it, "Rosie-Pockets," with Baby. In short, she involves Baby in everything that Siena does herself.

So why does she do this? Because it's exactly what Mama does with Siena. She's mimicking her own mother, and it's really a compliment to Mama that Siena has already picked up on the extent of her mother's devotion. Aww.

When does Siena mimic Daddy? Have you ever seen her eat?

The Mule

Our little one is just beginning to put together sentences, and already she's using language to manipulate her parents.

Every now and then, Siena will wake up in the middle of the night totally inconsolable (disconsolate? I gotta buy a dictionary). When she does, she'll often cry "Daddy! Daddy!" It's like she and her father share some deep, intimate bond, and only he can give her the solace that she seeks. So, sucker that I am, I get up and go see what My Little Angel needs. And what does she say as soon as I enter the room?

"Mommy! Mommy!"

That's right; I'm the mule. She calls for me because she kows that Mommy might leave her in there, but Daddy won't last too long before he dumps Siena with whom she really wants: Mommy.

Smart kid. Where does she get that from?

Keep it Clean

One question that prospective parents are always asking me is: At what age will a child start to pick up on their parents' profanity? Actually, no one has ever asked me this. But since you're thinking about it, let me give you the answer: eighteen months.

That's when Baby Genius started copying little sayings of Mama and Daddy. Fortunately, Daddy realized that Siena would even be more likely to repeat dirty words, which any human being can recognize by their onomatopoeic resonance, i.e., dirty words just sound dirty. So how does Daddy cope? He growls.

Not like a pit bull eyeing a mailman, mind you. Actually, it's more of a grunt, a muffled expression of frustrated rage. Of course, while this doesn't teach Siena any inappropriate language, it still upsets her; she knows perfectly well when Daddy's getting angry. In fact, the other night Daddy got so frustrated trying to swat a fly that, ever since then, Siena's gotten upset whenever she sees another "Bug!"

So what's Daddy's option? Simple: don't get mad. Don't let life's incessant, yet ultimately insignificant, frustrations get you down. Don't cry over spilled milk--and with Siena, that's no metaphor. And don't lose patience with Siena, or anything that's in her presence.

It's not as easy as it sounds. But once you stop getting mad at stupid stuff, your stress level drops overall. And if you can keep stress down while raising a toddler, you'll be a happy parent.

Naps? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Naps!

Time was Mama and I could count on at least ninety minutes every day when The Tasmanian Devil would crash for a good ninety minutes, giving us time during daylight when we could work on something other than zone defense. No more.

For the past few weekends, Siena hasn't taken a nap that wasn't in a car on the ride home from wherever. Not that she doesn't need a siesta; when she doesn't get a nap, she burns out in the late afternoon, slamming into walls and tossing chairs until one lucky parent wrestles The Li'l Boo through a bath and into the crib. But without the peer pressure of a whole day care class going down simultaneously, Siena feels no need to drop out of the weekend's festivities for something so puerile as a nap.

What does that mean for Mama and Daddy? We've got to be more creative in our weekend activities. We need a morning and afternoon activity that will (a) get Siena out of the house, and the unoccupied parent's hair; (b) exhaust Our Little Angel so that she goes down as soon as possible that night; and, if possible (c) involve a drive of a half-hour or more between noon and two p.m., so that Siena takes some kind of nap.

Okay, not the most interesting blog. But things have been busy, and I'm catching up on stuff. I promise the next one will be more interesting. And involve dirty words.