The Toddler Chronicles, No. 5 | Wife Edition
I thought it would be appropriate for the best wife of all wives to make an addition to the Toddler Chronicles saga.
Parenthood is going great! There is chaos, more chaos, and did I mention chaos? But oh boy, can it be fun and funny sometimes.
It was just another evening in the Hamilton household. I was getting ready for work, Adam was already at work, and Grandma Vickie was over as she was watching the kids that night. After making the gourmet Costco salad and pasta for dinner, Vickie and I convened at the dinner table to eat. Charlotte was having a grand old time becoming acquainted with herself in the mirror on the floor on her catchy musical playmat thing for the 1000th time.
All the while, Lyla was watching her new favorite show Super Why on Amazon Prime. We had just sat down with our food at the table when Lyla abruptly turned around in her highchair and started to cry because HOW DARE WE eat dinner at the grown-up table without her (she’s still very much the stage of toddlerhood where she will scream and cry but not answer when asked what she wants or needs). So not only is it a guessing game for us parents, but it’s also a kind of 5-strike rule because with every suggestion we ask them to try to get them to tell you what they want they cry harder and harder and eventually will melt into a big pool of tantrum all over the floor. It is horrifying to see, really.
So, I turned her around and scooted her highchair up to the table but even that didn’t stop the meltdown. She demanded to be let down out of the high chair.
From past experience, I knew exactly what the result of capitulation would be:
I would let her free from the grasp of the highchair and she would crawl onto my lap and try to feed me the Costco salad that I was trying to enjoy. Maybe if I was an 80-year-old with no teeth would this have been even the slightest enjoyable, however, this was not what happened.
When I took her out of the high chair, she saw her B.U.B.B.L.E wand and container and picked them up. She attempted to blow bubbles, but alas, it was empty. This usually would be great but she remembered where the refillable bubbles were. I didn’t even remember where I had stored the bubbles. She, however, unlatched the gate, went upstairs to the guest bathroom, retrieved the bubbles from under the sink, and brought them down.
Keep in mind, this is a 40 oz bottle of green bubble solution, so it’s nearly half her size in length. I may be exaggerating a smidge, but you get the comparison. She brought it to us with the happiest look on her face. So I thought to myself, “Now what? This will not go well. This will end in tears no matter what happens.” Scenarios quickly played in my head over the next couple of seconds.
Vickie asked her to bring the container over to her so she could fill up her smaller bubble container. Logical thinking, right? That was apparently unacceptable and Lyla aggressively said “NO.” Instead, she brought the container to Vickie to open and Vickie made the mistake of telling her “no” when she asked her to open it rather than fake trying to open it and telling her it was stuck like I do.
That threw her into another crying fit. As I was trying to shovel food in my face hole before I got ready for work, Vickie took the bubbles and placed them on the counter out of reach. Lyla then came into the kitchen crying and saw the bubbles on the counter and instantly stopped crying and located the bubbles which were obviously not hidden out of sight.
“Bubbles?” Lyla said in a pitiful voice.
Vickie knew she was caught and just started to laugh. Lyla did not think that was funny, to say the least, and had a total flopping-her-body-backward meltdown.
Parents, just save yourself the headache. Don’t put the big bubble container in a place where a 2-year-old can remember.