squish-y squish

squish-y squish

Just like last time, I went from wanting to clone my 2-year-old to wanting to put him up for adoption pretty much overnight – the night Elsa was born.

It’s true. I love love love 2-year-olds. Until the moment they become big brothers. And then can’t they just be in school already?

We knew Oliver would need some special attention when Elsa was born, and we tried to keep things as “normal” as we could for him. But it seems as though he changed over night. We thought if we kept our laps open for our cuddly boy to come sit in, he’d be fine. We thought if we had arms available for hugs after naptime, he’d be fine. We thought if we had ways for him to be “helpful” he’d be fine.

We thought wrong.

Because he didn’t want to cuddle any more. He didn’t need a hug after bedtime. And his idea of being helpful have drastically changed in a very short time.

For example: he used to be helpful by doing things we asked him to do. Often he would even see things that needed to be done and take care of it. But now he tries to be helpful by doing things we ask him not to do. Like get the peanuts out of the cupboard.

“Can I have some peanuts for a snack” he’ll say.

“Okay, I’ll get them down after I finish feeding Elsa.”

But he’s got a chair and a sly smile and the will to do it himself, even after I’ve asked him not to climb on the counter to get into the cupboard. It’s good to know he can do it himself, and he can do it safely, but he was still disobedient and he knew it.

Tricky little beast. Helpful, and yet not.

It’s been a bit of a challenge to get to know this new Oliver and to not try to make him be the Oliver we used to know. But we’ll get there. This new Oliver is nearly potty-trained. He starts pre-pre-school tomorrow. He can ride his balance bike for over two miles. And he turns 3 next month. He’s not my baby any more, and he knows it. And that’s a good thing.

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