A baby no more

Well, I knew this day was bound to come. But it is still a bit startling. For 14 months, Helen has been truly the most mild-mannered, good-natured baby I have ever met. She has been even-tempered and unconcerned with John's frequent over-enthusiastic attention. She has been cheerful in all circumstances. She has been quiet to the point of eerie, and content to self-entertain for remarkably long periods of time. But no more. Tonight, she declared herself a toddler, and there will be nothing quiet or content about her from now on.

It started at the park. Jeremy was teaching lab tonight so I took all four kids around the corner to burn some energy before bed. It's a little Lutheran elementary school with a playground. It also has a smaller, fenced yard with a collection of Little Tikes climbing equipment for the preschoolers. We decided to start by taking Helen there, and she adored the slides! She giggled every time she came down and started trying to get back up. Eventually, the older kids got bored so we marcher over to the larger playground equipment for a while, then headed home.

We walk across a big grassy field to go home, so I had set Helen down to let her walk a bit on her own. That was how I first discovered the problem. She turned a 180 and headed straight for the Little Tikes slides. Each time I turned her around to head home, she spun and made a steady, deliberate beeline for the slides. Well, it really was time to go home, so I picked her up and carried her. And she threw a tantrum!  I kid you not, her first tantrum. Okay, so it wasn't a very impressive tantrum. After all, she doesn't practice using her voice enough to be very loud, and she is so tiny that even with her proportionally large strength, she couldn't kick very hard and get down.

By the time we reached home, she had thankfully forgotten and forgiven. The kids wanted a snack, and (as kids will do) they remembered some snack tubes of yogurt in the freezer that I had forgotten we had. As the 3 older ones bustled about helping themselves, Helen stood in the middle squawking and pointing. John, who is actually quite solicitous of Helen, tossed her a tube, to her great delight. (Thank goodness she couldn't open it on her own.) I got her buckled in the high chair with a bib, then tried to take her tube to tear it open for her. Wow. Parting with that frozen plastic tube was not high on her list, apparently. I actually had to pry it out of her hands, while she continually shrieked bloody murder. I quickly opened it and handed it back to her, and she actually kind of shocked me with the silence as she stopped screaming long enough to grab the yogurt, hug it to her body with both hands, then cast a baleful eye in my direction and state defiantly, "MINE." Well, if a toddler is going to have just one or two words, I guess that one is a good choice.

Welcome to the "terrible ones," honey. Don't feel obligated to anticipate the terrible twos too much.

No more Mr. Nice Guy. From here on out, I am feeding myself.

This morning, as I was filling her bathtub, I turned around and found this. Perhaps I should have known what today was going to be like right from this start.