(Crappy Baby naming update! The people have spoken. 52% voted to keep it the same. A majority! Which is fine because I’m super lazy and now I don’t have to do anything. Of course, there were even better name ideas in the comments that weren’t in the poll so the poll kinda sucked. And few wise people suggested I ask the kids and I have no idea why that didn’t occur to me. So I asked them and they freaked out. “NOOOOOOO! Keep them the same! Don’t change our cartoon names! You can’t!” So there you go. Of course later, Crappy Baby said he might like to be called Crappy Pickle when he turns four and “grows up”. So we may revisit this again if he becomes uncomfortable with the “baby” part of his name at some point. For now, ‘Crappy Baby’ remains. Thanks for all your votes & ideas, that was fun!)
Now the real post…
Crappy Baby is in a helping stage.
Of course I want to encourage him to help. To guide him and show him how to do things. To boost his confidence.
This helping stage comes hand-in-hand with greater independence. It is really the same thing as the early “Do It Self!!!” type independence only with better language skills but just as many tantrums.
Independence is good!
One form of independence I long for is toilet needs independence. Aka – not having to wipe anyone else’s ass. Can you imagine? Can you imagine that at some point we will only have our own butts to worry about wiping? Wow. One can dream.
I’m close. So close, I can taste it. Except not taste it because that is a horrible choice of expression for this topic.
Anyway, part of me is thrilled that Crappy Baby has reached this helping stage.
But.
A toddler “helping” is like whatever the opposite of helping is.
Like with cooking.
Is he helping me make cookies?
No. He making it more difficult for me to make cookies.
And with cleaning!
Is he helping me clean?
No, he is making it more difficult for me to clean.
But how can I resist? How can I say no to his offer of help?
I can’t.
He is just too adorable.
Plus, I have to let him do this stuff so he can get better at it and one day actually be helpful.
Course I’m pretty sure once he reaches that level of skill he will no longer have any interest in performing most of these tasks. Just like I don’t. ”Yay! Sweeping! Look how good I am at sweeping now!” is something I’ve never said.
Anyway, those are just examples. The point of this post is actually this story…
So Crappy Baby is in the bathroom pooping.
I know he is pooping because both of my kids still tell me when they have to poop. As in “MAMA! I HAVE TO POOP!” Even if they are in the same room as Crappy Papa and I’m across the house. I must be found and given a status update on their bowel movements. Always.
He is taking a long time. I can hear the sound of the potty chair bowl insert being taken out. What is he doing?
I open the door and see him standing there with the potty chair bowl hovered above the big toilet.
The diaper sprayer is in his hand.
I’ve mentioned the diaper sprayer before in this post. About how it turns into a water laser if you turn it on too high.
How it takes a delicate touch to adjust it to the right pressure level.
Crappy Baby does not have a delicate touch.
It’s like one of those nightmares where I try to run but I can barely move or the one when I am driving a car but the brakes are barely working and I can’t make a full stop.
In slow motion, I yell “Nooooooooooo!” and lunge forward to grab the sprayer.
Too late.
I lunge forward right INTO the explosion. Face level.
And since I was yelling “Nooooooo!” my mouth was wide open.
But this was worth it right? Someday, someday he’ll handle all of this on his own. Right?
We’re so close! So close!
And yep, I could taste it.
