Toddler Tragedies

As I've mentioned, Sam gets very excited about the little things like seeing the garbage truck or the UPS man. On the other hand, he also gets very upset about the little things. Today both kids were napping around 2 pm. I worked on the computer for awhile and around 4 I heard Sam crying the most tragic cry he can make. This could only mean one thing: separation from BaaBaa. Sure enough, when I walk into his room, I see that BaaBaa has fallen out of the crib and is out of Sam's reach. I pick BaaBaa up and hand him to Sam and Sam, in true toddler form, changes his demeanor in less than a second.

We then go downstairs. It is time for a snack and drink, so Sam starts whining/crying "Waaaaaaater!...Waaaaater!..." He had some water before his nap. We aren't running out of water anytime soon. We aren't in a desert. However, in true toddler form, Sam's need for water is immediate and it's tragic if it's not immediately met. I tell Sam to count to 10, then he will get some water. "8, 9, 10, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11!" I try to explain to him that he needs to use his regular voice and say "Water, please." He obliges with just a little whine in his voice. That's acceptable, so I get him some water.

I'm making pizza for supper (aka dinner if you're in the city), and start stretching the pizza dough on the counter. Sam takes his little stool that I got for him a few weeks ago so that he can wash his own hands, and pulls up beside me. He wants to help, but I don't have much for him to do at that point. In retaliation, he takes all his silverware out of the drawer. Hmmm. I'll let that one go. Time for sauce and toppings. Last time I made pizza I had Sam help put pepperoni on the pizza. However, he put more pepperoni in his mouth than on the pizza, so I don't really want his help time time around. "Peroni! Peroni! Cucumber! (He means peppers, but most green veggies are cucumbers these days.)" Apparently not helping with the pizza is also tragic. I tell Sam to go stand by the table, so I can put the pizza in the oven. He actually obliges, so I put the pizza in without event.

Sam then goes over and touches the oven door. "No touch!" I say. He touches it again. "No touch!" Same response. Time for the no-no chair. Sam turns into the plank as we walk to the no-no chair. Then he sits down and starts smiling. The no-no chair clearly isn't working, but I still need to think of another strategy.

Finally the pizza is done, we sit down to eat, and fortunately, there are no toddler tragedies during the meal.