Friday, November 8, 2013

Ahh to be 1 again...

It's no secret that my kid is cute.  Like, not just "kinda" cute, like, THE REAL DEAL cute.  (This picture was taken on his first birthday- he wouldn't look at the camera, so he kind of looks like a little blind boy :-/  )

He knows how to do all sorts of cute stuff.  Like when you say, "Give momma a cheeky smile!"  He does the above.  Or we'll say, "Do tiny feet!"  And he does this little dance where he tip-toes around.

But looks are deceiving.  Inside that sweet little angel baby is a toddler just screaming to get out. 
Liam has always been ahead of his time as far as milestones are concerned.  He started cutting teeth at 5 months and walking at 10.  And here we are at 13 months, throwing tantrums like a child twice his age. 
When it's time to leave Nana and Grandpa's in the evenings, he screams and runs off with his jacket.  He thinks he's moving at the speed of sound as you're calmly walking after him.  He runs to the stairs, as if his baby brain tells him to take the higher ground.  When you finally overtake him, he stiffens his body like a little baby board and SCREAMS.  He doesn't know the "n-o" word yet, so he just spouts gibberish.  You put him down, so his flailing arms and legs do not hurt anyone (those little sneakers are HARD!) and he throws himself on the floor and stares at the ceiling, eyes wide.  You try to buckle him in his seat and once again he stiffens his little body, clenches his eyes shut and screams.  At this point, you're thankful that you're in the confines of your parent's driveway and not the grocery store parking lot. 
A few minutes in the dark car and you suspect after that performance, he'd be asleep.
Tantrum over.
Last night he was into EVERYTHING and Andy was trying to do the banking, (something which makes Daddys cranky to begin with) so I was trying to oblige and keep Liam happy.  He didn't want to be happy, he wanted to be eating the kitty food and sweeping things with his new broom.  He wanted to be in with daddy.  He didn't want to be on my lap.
So he did what comes logically, when you're one; he threw my iPhone across the floor and then he bit my cheek.
I just sat there, stunned.  The tears welled up in my eyes as I felt for blood.  Those little teeth are SO SHARP!  "What do I do!!!??" I called to Andy.  "Smack his lips."  Andy replied.  Impulsively I whacked my son right on the mouth.  NOT hard, mind you, but it got his attention.  His little face contorted and his lips started to quiver.  He looked at me like I betrayed him.  For the first time, I felt like a real parent.  Discipline will do that to you.  Because nobody wants a brat for a kid, but no normal minded parent LIKES to discipline their kids.  Nobody wants to be the bad guy.
I took him upstairs and immediately put him to bed.  Within moments, he was fast asleep.  I help him a little longer than normal, and when he woke up in the middle of the night (three times) he still called for me.
Parenting is not for the faint hearted.  Last night as I was reprimanded my son for throwing all his carrots on the floor at supper, it occurred to me that is has begun.  The training, the discipline, the rebuking, so that in 17 years you're not bailing your child out of jail. 
Eh, we'll keep him.
And on the really bad days, I'll send him to his Nana.