We spent the weekend away for a conference and I was too lazy to pack a bottle for T and the milk that goes with it. With all the excitement of everyone in the same room and coasters to chew on, T didn't seem to mind that "Ba Ba" wasn't around for his morning pick me up.
Yesterday, however, the context was right. Monday morning came like it always does and T peered out from the crib bars in his green monkey jammers and asked, "Where Ba Ba?"
As Hub and I had discussed on the seven hour drive home, it seemed like a good stopping point. Plus, we'd get a slight respite from cleaning the fermenting bottles that tend to collect near the kitchen sink. Is that on my chore list? I forget....
When I explained to T that bottles were banished, old news, for the weak of heart, scat...he whimpered for a moment. Then I told T that he is too big for bottles. That he is a big boy and that he can drink his milk out of a cup. I even gave an inch and offered to serve the milk in a sippy cup. A stopover point between baby and man.
"No want sippy cup!" T spat. Then, taking a different tactic, T gathered himself and calmly said, "I'm not big. I'm ittl...er."
Funny, T couldn't quite say that he's plain "little." To acknowledge his littlenes must cut into the core of his being. At this proud stage in his life, all of two years and six months of age, T identifies as a bigger than life Superman, who confidently offers, "Mama, I help you," when my road rage spills over at the driver of the car in front of me at the coffee drive-thru line.
T's preferred nick names include, in this order: Big Guy, Big Boy, Superman and Bo Bo (not to be confused with Ba Ba).
But...but, but, but, but...but (as T always says when he's gathering his thoughts), NEVER in a million years call the kid CUTE, even if you need a Superman because the guy in front of you in the coffee line orders seven variations of an extra quarter shot, no whip, but nutmeg sprinkles, mocha latte. Because to T, cute and Superman don't mix. Cute means: tiny, tiny baby, BabyN and people too small for spotting punch buggies (VW bugs). And T can most definitely spot a punch buggy.
So yesterday, without a tantrum or big crocodile tears to demonstrate his loss over dear old Ba Ba, T stated his position and also acknowledged that bridge he's crossing between babyhood and something...bigger.
11 comments:
You rock, the big boy speech hasn't worked for my 2 year old yet and we are still battling over the ba ba. I have thrown two sets out and have replaced them. With my other 2 getting rid of the bottle was pretty easy but not with this one, his ba ba is his favorite thing. He only gets it at home but still Ive got to be strong and do it!!! Maybe next week though...haha!
That's hilarious - so clearly caught in the dilemma of wanting to be growing up and yet so wanting the comfort of his bottle!
I do have to ask, however: what on earth is wrong with a non-fat, extra hot, mocha/latte with light whip????!! Remind me never to order that drink in front of YOU!
Ruth
M23: Maybe the baby of the family deserves to get a bottle a little longer. (: I think BabyN will....
Ruth: No disrespect for your drink of choice, my dear! It's the seven variations of whatever that gets my heart pumping. I'm gonna modify the description a bit....
It's so hard growing up...both for the kids and for us!
T actually IS Superman. He is full of personality and style. He is big enough to dance in front of his peers, to cuddle Mom, and to be nice to his sisters. That takes a big man, a superhero. You are raising a respectful, kind, loving and fun-loving man, no matter what his size. I call that good parenting and I raise my glass to you & your husband!
My youngest is just like that. Don't you dare call her little. She is not little. No sir! Insult to injury. So glad you broke through and passed a major milestone!
I did the cold turkey thing with my kid. She was a real trooper like your son
We didn't have any trouble getting rid of the bottle, but tonight at almost 5 I caused a crying fit because I said I was going to throw her munchkin straw cups away. That was mainly because my husband won't serve her an open cup, but I think the tone of the "discussion" between myself and my husband freaked her out. She went to bed a wreck.
For the record, I didn't throw any cups away. I just moved them to far siberia (our pantry closet) where my hubby will never find them. So she spills her milk on the kitchen table - open cups are the next big thing. They're good enough all day long.
Sorry for venting on your blog.
For each great man there is a great milestone!
Aw. He'll always be little to me. Missed you tons.
Atta boy! You must be proud of your little man - giving up ANYTHING at that age is a real adjustment!
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