Jane has always been a very advanced child. She was born a week early and now at eleven months, she’s already hit her terrible twos. It was like flicking a switch.
One day she’s a good natured kid, she cooperated, helped out, appreciated effort. When she cried with some need and I tried to fill it, she’d stop crying for a bit, even if I guessed wrong, like she was giving me a chance, giving me the benefit of the doubt and wouldn’t start crying again until it was clear I’d guessed wrong and her needs remained unmet. She’d pick up her butt when I picked her up so I could get a hand under her and also on the changing table so it’s easier to change her diaper.
The next day it’s “I want this” and that want was immediate, important, and life and death! Whether she wanted to be picked up, put down, go outside, hold the knife or grab some stranger’s sunglasses, it has to be RIGHT NOW!!!
The changing table is open warfare. Her new job is to press every fiber of her being into the effort of rolling over and standing up, immediately grabbing the left rail with her right hand, a lockdown grip twisting her body with surprising strength. I’d plead with her to cooperate and she’d laugh at me. She knows what she was supposed to do, but, somehow, “supposed to do” has taken on a new meaning. It means “absolutely not!” and she laughs throughout the struggle, never noticing that she’s the only one laughing.
She’s lucky she’s cute.
