When I looked at Alex for the first time, after over 24 hours of labor and more than 9 months of a difficult, uncomfortable pregnancy, I thought that it was all worth it, just to see my adorable baby boy and to fall deeply in love with him. And I still mostly think that… keep this in mind as you read.
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Times are rough for a certain 2.5 year old at 9473 W. Albert Lane. And somewhat tougher for those with whom he resides. On Thursday, June 29th, war was declared quickly and without much fanfare after the young Mr. Davis decided that no, he would not be taking a nap, and how silly of Mama to suggest one! Prior to the declaration of war, Mama read Toddler 411, a brilliant book that provides hope to the masses of battered parents of headstrong toddlers. It was because of the empowerment Toddler 411 issued that Mama found the strength, deep within herself, to propose a nap, and also due to the book that Mama did not throw up her hands in disgust and lock herself in the bathroom after a failed attempt. Armed with a baby gate and nerves of steel, Mama limited Alex’s mobility to his bedroom and listened as he howled, screamed, and threw things over the baby gate. The young Mr. Davis fell asleep shortly thereafter. Though a similar battle ensued at bedtime, the period of time dedicated to throwing things over the baby gate was considerably lessened.
Alas, Alex is not one to go down without a fight…or nine or ten. Neither leaves Albert Lane together very often because of battles waged throughout the day. (For instance, the once simple act of getting into the car for an excursion has now become a hide-and-go-seek game.) Young Mr. Davis, still adverse to nap-taking, behaves garrishly and without regard to the generally-accepted rules of engagement in everything, not just the issue of sleeping on his own bed, which has forced Mama to “fight fire with fire,” so to speak. What could be considered cruel (as murmured by the elder Mr. Davis) has become the norm around the family home, as Alex is mercilessly sent to his room to be “stuck,” (a.k.a. have time out) after any and all infractions and disrespectful gestures. One would think that Alex would gracefully defer to Mama’s clearly more advanced battle-tactics, but one would be horribly wrong. Nearly one month later, young Davis is still as spirited as ever, and it appears that each day he becomes a little more wise about the art of manipulation. Always charming, the younger Mr. Davis has now perfected the maniacal smile one usually associates with charismatic, yet evil, villains and is a master at pitiful pleas for juice. One wonders if toddlers are issued some kind of manual that contains instructions on how to thoroughly baffle and frustrate parents, but especially mothers. Obviously, such a manual is either invisible to grown-ups, or is cleverly disguised as the book that parents have read and re-read 100 million times so that they have either memorized the story (and no longer need to refer to the book’s pages) or they refuse to read it even one more time.
Despite the war, morale is high and Mama looks forward to the days when Alex’s favorite word is something other than “no.”
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