The Allure of the Toy Car

I have always been intrigued by the apparent allure of toy cars.

It could be the tyke out and about with 3 dinky cars in each fist (my brother, once upon a time), the toddler intensely focused on the jeep he's driving over the arm of a chair, or the kid doing endless laps of the main floor pushing a dump truck, butt in the air and all. Or, as with my son, the impressive impromptu parking lot that is the staircase (a great setup when you're carrying a baby downstairs). Serious stuff.

Blocks, I get. Legos, Play-doh, all that stuff, I get. Sign me up for some son-and-Mom time with that. But the fascination and endless entertainment that comes from slithering along the floor pushing a dinky car? Help me out, here.

Now, I am 100% about gender-neutral toys. That said, I don't think I'm taking too big a leap to suggest this seems to be very much a boy thing. It wasn't a "me" thing, anyway. So I asked my husband to enlighten me.

Me: You were a boy once. So what's the big deal with cars? What's so fun about them?

Hubs: Well, you can do pretty much anything with them.

Me: Such aaaas...?

Hubs: Well, you can role-play with them. Like you would with Barbies.

(Now, I was never a Barbie aficionado either, but at least I get Barbies)

Me: But Barbies represent living beings. You can at least make them have conversations or go on
dates or hunt sasquatches or something.

Hubs: Yeah, well, with cars, you're being the driver. You can race, or have chases...

Me: And then after the first two minutes...?
__

I'm sure there's a whole world of possibilities in the imagination of a young boy when it comes to his cars, and I'm pretty impressed watching it in action. My own imagination is somewhat limited, though.

Brotherly Love

A lot of people have asked me over the past seven months how Big Bro "gets along" with Little Bro. How did he like the new addition? Does he pay attention to his brother?

I admit it wasn't love at first sight. Big Bro was not too keen on this new thing that Grammie and Grandad brought him to the hospital to meet. Our first attempt at a picture of all of us looked something like this:

I remember reading an excerpt from the Book Siblings Without Rivalry  (Faber and Mazlish) in which we are invited to put ourselves in the shoes of the former only child. We are asked to imagine if, say, our husbands came home one day with a new, younger, adorable "second wife" to add to the family, and we're expected to be excited about it.

God! Is that what it can be like for them? Heck! I'd be jumping out of the picture too. At LEAST!

I am an eldest child and was three and a half when my brother was born. I don't remember feeling dethroned, per se (I don't really remember anything), but I'm told I did ask when we were bringing him back. I quickly came to be very fond of him though.

I'm happy to say that Big Bro has seemingly also quite taken to his little brother in recent months, and I assure those with new second babies to hang in there as well. With lots of one-on-one time and important "Big Bro" jobs, he has come to see this new addition as a good thing (or maybe that he just forgets that Little Bro didn't exist before Christmas time).

Here's how I know that things are looking up:

1. He has started to interact with him. This includes showing him various items around the house. And of course you know I mean by "showing" I mean "putting it virtually into his eyeball".

2. He brings Little Bro's toys to him. All of them. Every toy he owns is piled up on top of him, each delicately balanced on the last. Thankfully, Big Bro leaves him a breathing hole.

3. He is considerate of his little brother. He ensures everyone is aware of when Little Bro needs to sleep.

4. When Big Bro does his routine distribution of novelty hats (the wearing of which is not optional), he has begun to bring one for Little Bro, too. If this isn't a sure sign that you're in the club, I don't know what is.

5. And finally, Big Bro enjoys spending time with his brother. When we go somewhere, even to a different floor of the house, he'll often insist that the baby comes too. Or he'll rock him in his car seat when he's upset, pat him on the head or stuff a soother in his mouth.

Or, they'll eye each other from across the table, or Big Bro will lie down head-to-head with him on the floor, and they'll just start to giggle as if they're up to something.

Uh oh. Okay, guys, let's not get TOO chummy, now. I can see the scheming begin already.

How did you know your new family addition was officially "In the Club"?

Foreshadowing

Every once in a while, the kids give me a glimpse of what's to come.

People always joke that people who have baby sons will have to buy a deep freeze in 14 years' time to house all that food that's going to keep disappearing. It's no wives' tale. I am familiar with how much teenage boys eat; my brother always had his rear end sticking out of the fridge. So with two sons with tall genes, I guess I'm doubly doomed.

I see my kids eat even now, and they can put it away. Little Bro is loving him some solids. And isn't this supposed to be the 'picky toddler' stage? It can be tough to get him to the table, but once he's there, look out. I learned in a toddler nutrition workshop that a 'serving' of toast for a toddler is as little as 1/4 piece. That's one serving?? In that case, my kid often eats eight servings of toast in a sitting.

 My husband already tries to snag anything that I don't seem to want on my plate (he should know by now I'm saving the best for last!), and now I'm going to be competing with two hungry boys too.

Don't get me wrong... I'm glad they eat well and highly encourage it, but it looks like we'd better start saving up for groceries. Never mind RESPs.

A Different World

Since I haven't had time to draw lately, I thought I'd share an early observation that I'd drawn in the early days but never posted. You can tell it's old because Big Bro is only about six months old... *sniff*... so little...

Before I got married, I went to one of those wedding expos to get some good ideas, but mostly to have a fun day out with a friend. There was no shortage of photographers, florists, stylists, jewelers, caterers and limousine services. You could get your ring polished, try on dresses and sample cupcakes. Videos of tropical destination weddings played on TV screens. There were businesses that would rent chocolate fountains or release bejeweled doves into the air for you. Doves! With little heart stickers on their heads! Talk about decadence.

Fast forward a few years later. After my son was born, I went to the Baby Expo that is held in Ottawa every year. It was pretty much the same, only totally different.

I recall being offered a sample at one of the booths; a cloth package with a zipper. Sweet! I love samples. I was happy to take one. What could it be?

Yup, it was a bit of a different world now. 

Picking Battles

I think I get it now when I think back to the little girls I'd see walking around the mall with their parents in a princess dress. I'd wonder how they were allowed to go out like that.

You gotta pick your battles, as they say.

Big Bro is on a blue kick; he loves the colour blue and anything lucky enough to be blue. Blue markers, blue blocks, blue cars, blue Flintstone vitamins (though I had to tell him those don't exist). I think his little bro even got some points because he has blue eyes.

I like to give Big Bro choices so he has a feeling of autonomy. But if I give him the choice between his green shirt and orange shirt, he will choose the blue one. I wish I'd known this was coming before I bought, you know, a variety of shirts.

So, what was I saying about battles? Some battles are worth picking, such as:

- 2-year-old wants to drive the car: worth picking
-2-year-old wants to 'store' family friend's Ticket to Ride game pieces in the heating vent: worth picking
- 2-year-old wants to eat a block of butter with a fork: worth picking
 
But if said 2-year-old wants to pick all his clothes just based on whether they're blue? Maybe I can let him have this one. Sometimes.

So, from his selection of shirts, he picks the stained souvenir T-shirt from Nunavut with the fish on it... because it's blue.

From the multi-coloured selection of socks (or the option of no socks, considering it's been 36 with humidex lately), he picks the big fuzzy ones... because they're blue.

He has two pairs of sneakers... one casual, stylish pair and one good pair for running around. And oh yeah, he has some cheapo blue croc knockoffs meant for when we go to splash pads and whatnot. So, crocs it is, of course.

So if you're out at the mall and you see a kid dressed like this,

Chances are he's with me.

Well, why not, eh?  It's what being a kid is all about, he's showing off some, uh, personality, and besides... if I let him have this one, he'll likely be more receptive later on when I deny him that block of butter.

I Do It

"I do it".

It's a phrase I hear a good thousand times a day, and I'm only exaggerating a little bit.

Well, actually I should say that, technically,  the phrase I hear is "You do it", because the conversation would go as follows:

Me (doing pretty much anything)
BigBro, in utter panic: "YOU DO IT?!"
Me: "We say, 'I do it'" (more or less)
BigBro: "I DO IT!"
Me: "Okay, you do it."
BigBro: "YOUUUU DO IT!"

It can be a real "Who's On First" kind of conversation. But it's important not to mistake that "YOU DO IT" means that you best get out of the way. Toddler on Mission: Independence here.

Many of these tasks, like climbing into his own car seat, makes me pull a muscle just to watch. He'd make a good rock climber. I'm impressed that he would still rather go through all that each time than just let me lift him in.

Quite the opposite, in fact. It's quite traumatic if we are in a hurry and don't have time to realize this pursuit of autonomy at every step. Not surprisingly, we are in a hurry often. Especially after a morning where he's insisted on doing everything himself.

Click to enlarge

I dared help him tidy up his mini Mr. Potato Heads the other day, and was blasted in the face by a panicked "YOUUU DO IT", followed by his removing the body parts from the bucket... setting them down on the floor... waiting a beat... then putting them in the bucket himself. Well, excuse me, then. 
 
I've tapped into this, though. As mentioned in a previous post, he takes great pride in pitching in, which I will not discourage in the least. He has learned the steps to making my coffee with the Tassimo in the morning, which he always looks forward to. Obviously at this point I take over once he's pressed the button, but I like where this is going. 

Toddlers are not about taking the easy route. Isn't it inspiring, though? Can I bottle some of this perseverance and enthusiasm for when he's fifteen? Heck, can I take some for myself?

My little boy, becoming more independent by the day *sniff*.
 As we head out to the car, he'll hang off the driver's side door, saying, "you drive?"
"Only Mama and Dada drive. You can drive when you're big like Dada."
"Okay," he says. "Tomorrow, you drive."

I laugh, but then, with how fast it's going, it will probably feel like tomorrow.

Toddler Moves

Toddlers dance like no one is watching. Or maybe they dance like everyone's watching. Either way, they all seem to have the same signature moves.

Oh, the spinning. Spinning until you run into your friend, the couch, the wall or the floor. Then repeat.

How can that not put you in a good mood?