a taste of things to come

November 11, 2011

Last night after work we pulled into the driveway and unloaded the car. The jude was pissed, which is not all that remarkable for that time of day. The transition between Awesome Babysitter's house and ours is almost always marked with very grouchy decompression time. I normally just try to ignore him and let him have some quiet until he's ready to rock and roll but we had a few errands we were hoping to run and we really wanted him to go inside, eat his craisins (crazies), and change his pants in a timely fashion, i.e. please stop hugging that ladder in the yard and come inside, for the love.

Thus, we were rushing him a little bit, which is a recipe for disaster. I know this and yet sometimes it still gets the better of me. If there's one thing I've learned about parenting a toddler it's that you can't rush them anywhere. Well you can, but you'll probably pay for it in horrible, horrible ways that you'll look back on in the years to come as you sit under your table with tears of regret wetting your face in a flashback of terror. This is exactly why "we're not in a hurry" is my favorite stress-reducing phrase. Utter it when you're madly scrambling after your toddler down the aisles of Hobby Lobby and feel the pressure immediately lift.

Jon was ushering him around the living room trying to get him to sit down and munch his snack, which was predictably not going so hot. Surprise surprise. "Ok buddy, sit down and eat your snack," to which jude countered, "I need the apple juice." to which jon countered, "Here's your juice. Sit. Down." Jude countered that with standing on his chair and flying his airplane around the nearest available airspace. He is a mediocre air traffic controller and negotiations were falling through at the model UN.

After continued back and forth Jon firmly instructed him to, "Calm down and eat your snack," which prompted an already incensed jude to declare to himself and to all the world, "I'm gunna kick his butt!" and proceeded to stand up and kick jon in the foot with his tiny shoe.

That. Just. Happened.

After I reattached my jaw to the top half of my face we were able to corral him and properly explain that that's not a nice thing to say and more importantly we absolutely do not kick dad (or anyone else for that matter). He moved on to happier and better things and the incident was forgotten as if it had never occurred. Toddler brain, wheeee! Meanwhile the two of us were still reeling around the room with our arms in the air running into things like blinded gerbils. Awhhaaaaat? Did that really just happen?

It's funny that, as someone who speaks freely in front of my child sometimes including the cuss, this event would shock me. After a bit of reflection I determined that it's the usage that gets my goat not the words (also, the whole TWO thing. Oh two, you're just full of surprises aren't you?) I don't particularly object to the word 'butt.' Words are just words, and I'm happy to explain that some words are 'adult words' and move on. The less of a big deal you make it the less of a big deal it will be to them, etc. etc.

To me 'kicking his butt' is not at all like saying 'Let's go to the fucking store!' or 'Where are my fucking socks?' wherein 'fucking' is an adjective not related to violence or ill will to another being. (Not that I want him to say that either, I'm just talking hypothetical context here.) 'Kicking in the butt' is an active verb, which he apparently understands how to follow with the accompanying action. While I'm impressed with his comprehension skills it's not cool to run around kicking anyone's anything.

It's probably no less than I would expect from my spicy, observant kid who hangs out with the older crowd and talks about skateboards but it caught me by surprise all the same. I'll fully cop to being one of those radical weirdos that find it acceptable for kids to talk like adults, within respectful reason, so it was only a matter of time before this delicate dance began. I wasn't thinking it would be quite this soon so I'm not entirely prepared with a blueprint and coping techniques. Guess I better um, figure that out right quick.

Also, absolutely no kicking anyone's butt, ok? Go cook your fucking soup.
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