Our littlest guy can pour on the charm. I mean really thick. Thick like molasses in February. It's hard not to admire his skills. We were at a restaurant the other day and I was able to watch him in action. He has the precision of a Navy SEAL as he zeroes in on his target(s). Pretty young ladies in particular seem to fall prey to his wiley ways. He puts on this coy routine that involves closing his eyes and turning that muppety moppity head of his. Simple but effective. He gets the standard response, "Ahhhhhhhhh, how cuuuuuuute!" Yes, sometimes I just roll my eyes at the spectacle.
We at home, of course, get to see the other side of him. Usually he is pretty even-tempered, but he went through a two week phase in which he threw some King Kong sized tantrums. Three to be exact. Tantrums are not something we are used to. I am definitely a "don't give the drama to your mama" kind of person. So I was caught off guard by his performances (none of which occurred in the privacy of our own home, OF COURSE). Oh, can I also add that the father was absent for each one?
The first volcanic explosion happened at the beauty salon (no, I did not ask for it by taking him there). I took the WTs to my hairdresser to get shorn. I had Kara go first so Micah could watch and be comfortable about what was transpiring. This was not his first haircut, but his hair has been cut before by a friend (an adult friend, that is). Kara was fine as I expected, and all was going well. To save time, my hairdresser asked another gal to cut Micah's hair. That little change tripped some kind of switch and the haircut hellion was born. He absolutely flipped out, and he was even sitting on my lap. I don't know, maybe he thought he was Samson and he'd lose strength if his hair was cut. It took three of us to hold him still, and the end result was that he looked like a Beatles Muppet.
The second bomb went off in the doctor's office. Let me just say that all my kids have loved Dr. Ng. Not a one of them ever gave him any grief, Micah has been fine all the other times we've seen Dr. Ng. But this was a day in the two weeks of terror and he must have felt compelled to perform. Once again, Micah sat on my lap for supposed comfort and he still squirmed and wormed and twisted and resisted. I even had all hands on deck with the sibs present. I apologized for Micah's behavior and told Dr. Ng that the 3OS (older siblings) had been "textbook kids" and had always been good for him. He said, "No, you had three unusual kids (make that four) and now you have one textbook kid. He's acting normal." Did I say the kids love Dr. Ng? The parents think he's pretty fantastic too.
The last atom splitting episode took place at my in-laws' house. I love my in-laws, I enjoy spending time with my in-laws, I felt really bad for my in-laws. They had to concede that they were biologically connected with the toddler terrorist. Our visit had been going very well, one of my sisters-in-law and her daughter came up so we were able to spend time with them as well. As we were cleaning up to go, I did the unthinkable... I asked Micah to pick up a block. That little stinker plopped himself down and said, "No." The battle lines were drawn. Now remember, I am a parenting veteran. This kid is the youngest of five. I even have a master's degree in psychology. I have a teaching credential. I taught preschool for 13 years. Did any of that help? Not one little bit. It was brutal, it was ugly, it was loud. I was sure animal control was going to show up to pick up the deranged animal that was loose in the house.
Finally, after making him pick up that block, I took him (as he was kicking and screaming) out to the car. I had to force him into the carseat and then I shut the door. I admit, that was satisfying. I then went in to get Kara (the 3OS were with my parents), who was showing everyone that she was the sweetest, most well-behaved child on the planet. Micah fell asleep for the last five minutes of the 10 minute ride to my parents' house where we were spending the night. I thought that for sure he would go back to sleep once I put him in his bed. Silly, silly woman am I. He revved up his engines and away he went with tantrum part 2.
I let him scream and cry, knowing he needed the sleep. I'd wait him out. Well after an hour of his theatrics, I started nodding off on the couch. Kara was walking around and reached for something on the counter, accidentally knocking a glass onto the floor. I jumped up and raced to move her so she wouldn't get cut by broken glass. When that glass hit the floor, something magical happened. It broke the evil spell my cherub was under. Yelling ceased from his room. Instead, the questions came. "Mommy, what was that?" "It was glass breaking, Micah." "Oh. Get out?" "No, not yet. Mommy has to clean up the glass." "Oh. Okay. Glass break?" "Yes, the glass broke." "Oh. Kara did it?" "Yes, Kara did it. It was an accident." "Oh. Get out?" "Almost, I'm still cleaning up." "Oh. Okay." When Micah was finally released from his prison, he was all sunshine and roses. He also had the nerve to look me in the eye and say, "Micah. Good attitude." I have met my match.
Here's a picture of two blanket burritos.
And here is the family, not yet complete...but that's another story...
