Full Blown Melt Down

Well, we knew it would come. We knew at some point we'd have to get knee deep in the parenting of the boy wonder, and it came in full force the other day.

Many of you will recall that a while back we mentioned Grant's raspberry-blowing problem. It subsided because, for a long time there, he was not the world's best eater. But our little eater is back... and so are those raspberries. Back when they first made it on the scene, I don't think he really understood the word "no," but there's no excuse any longer.

So, two nights ago, when he started blowing raspberries, I swiftly (read quickly, not harshly) put a towel to his mouth and told him to stop. He endured a few rag-to-the-mouth-"we-don't-spit" routines, but then he lost it. That amazing thing called "one's will" came rearing up, and he cried (actual tears, Mom), fussed, and pounded his fists. He'd stop long enough to take another bite, start the raspberries again, be met with the, what I've dubbed, "towel no no trick," only to have him lose it again. He was so angry with me, so angry he didn't get his own way. He obviously wasn't hurting much: when the phone rang, he immediately stopped the charade to see who was calling.

On the whole, Grant continues to be an easy, easy baby, but this episode (which Bret and I had to work hard not to laugh at) was the first of many to come. The first one might be somewhat laughable, but a whiney, high maintenance child is nothing to laugh at in the future. So, I guess, let the real parenting begin.

Obviously, the earlier reprimand did little to harm his happiness for the rest of the evening.