I've been thinking for a couple days about how I would describe Riley at 20 months. The best I could come up with is to compare him to a hard-boiled egg: A thin, crunchy-yet-hard exterior surrounding soft layers of yummy goodness.
As we've seen recently, that outer layer cracks pretty easily. But his rubbery inside lets him bounce back with aplumb.
But the egg analogy goes even further than just the constant physical abuse he inflicts on himself with wobbly toddler ways. It could even be used to illustrate his personality.
When Riley sets his mind to something, there's no breaking through his shell. He's steadfast and stubborn with his opinions about such things as not wanting to lie down for a diaper change or be strapped into his car seat. When there's something he wants – usually food – there is no distracting him. Unfortunately, when we disagree with him or don't give him what he wants RIGHT NOW, the tough brute part of him lashes out in fist-flying fits.
Right now, his crib railing continues to provide the backdrop for our most epic struggles. There are two things he wants: a back rub and a tissue (which he sweetly cries through puckered lips as “Tishhhew! Tishhhew!”). Bedtime is a nightmare with lots of crying. He willingly goes down, points to the blanket and – with his butt up in the air – tries to rub his back with his hand to show you what he wants. We rub and his breathing becomes steady and deep. His eyes in the dim room look heavy. After a few minutes, we attempt to stealth away. But the squeaky wood floors give us away and the crying begins. This is bad at 7:30 p.m. It's worse beyond compare at 12:45 a.m. when the crying's been going on for an hour and this is your third time in there. Trust me. I've gone through nearly an entire bottle of Aleve in recent weeks in my attempt to fight off the exhaustion headaches that even coffee can't cure.
However, this scenario also shows his softer interior. Because, really, what's sweeter than a baby who just wants his Mom and Dad to cuddle with him? For all his boyish ways, he still takes breaks from his toy cars and airplanes to run over and lean his head on us just hoping for a hand through his silky soft hair. With a serious face set under long lashes, he gives a little look of appreciation before running off, screaming, toward a toy. When he's in our arms, he often gets a far-away look in his eyes as he leans his big, soft cheeks toward ours to receive kisses and nuzzles. Often, he'll interrupt whatever we're saying to plant a big, lingering, opened-mouthed kiss on our lips.
Sometimes, though, he's more of a scrambled egg. This is when things get
really ugly. He's all over the place and confused - simultaneously wanting and not wanting something and we're at a loss to satisfy him. The situation usually loses control with him crying and throwing something, like his bowl of food, yet grabbing for it as soon as it's removed for clean-up. This battle rages many mornings, and causes quite a bit of frustration until somebody, or both of us, end up yelling and crying.
We mostly try to be patient as he learns to communicate and wants to explore. It's still so much fun to watch him become increasingly aware of his world and all the things he can do it now. He mostly wants to do whatever Holden does, like ride a bike, scream or pee standing up at the toilet. His physical and mental accomplishments race neck-'n-neck all day. A simple walk around the block is a huge achievement, especially when you have to stop every few steps, pick up an armful of prickly balls, then toss them back on to the neighbor's lawn with a look of glee.
The best part is, even after one of our knock-down, drag-out stand-offs, Riley is still open to hugs and kisses. He quickly forgives, forgets and moves on to the next distraction. It's a wonderful thing to not hold grudges, and I wonder at what point in our lives we lose that ability. As he and his brother get older, they'll be mad at us for more things for increasingly longer periods of time. That hard-boiled egg boy will certainly be deviled one day. For now, we'll cherish his sunny side.
But the egg analogy goes even further than just the constant physical abuse he inflicts on himself with wobbly toddler ways. It could even be used to illustrate his personality.
When Riley sets his mind to something, there's no breaking through his shell. He's steadfast and stubborn with his opinions about such things as not wanting to lie down for a diaper change or be strapped into his car seat. When there's something he wants – usually food – there is no distracting him. Unfortunately, when we disagree with him or don't give him what he wants RIGHT NOW, the tough brute part of him lashes out in fist-flying fits.
Right now, his crib railing continues to provide the backdrop for our most epic struggles. There are two things he wants: a back rub and a tissue (which he sweetly cries through puckered lips as “Tishhhew! Tishhhew!”). Bedtime is a nightmare with lots of crying. He willingly goes down, points to the blanket and – with his butt up in the air – tries to rub his back with his hand to show you what he wants. We rub and his breathing becomes steady and deep. His eyes in the dim room look heavy. After a few minutes, we attempt to stealth away. But the squeaky wood floors give us away and the crying begins. This is bad at 7:30 p.m. It's worse beyond compare at 12:45 a.m. when the crying's been going on for an hour and this is your third time in there. Trust me. I've gone through nearly an entire bottle of Aleve in recent weeks in my attempt to fight off the exhaustion headaches that even coffee can't cure.
However, this scenario also shows his softer interior. Because, really, what's sweeter than a baby who just wants his Mom and Dad to cuddle with him? For all his boyish ways, he still takes breaks from his toy cars and airplanes to run over and lean his head on us just hoping for a hand through his silky soft hair. With a serious face set under long lashes, he gives a little look of appreciation before running off, screaming, toward a toy. When he's in our arms, he often gets a far-away look in his eyes as he leans his big, soft cheeks toward ours to receive kisses and nuzzles. Often, he'll interrupt whatever we're saying to plant a big, lingering, opened-mouthed kiss on our lips.
Sometimes, though, he's more of a scrambled egg. This is when things get really ugly. He's all over the place and confused - simultaneously wanting and not wanting something and we're at a loss to satisfy him. The situation usually loses control with him crying and throwing something, like his bowl of food, yet grabbing for it as soon as it's removed for clean-up. This battle rages many mornings, and causes quite a bit of frustration until somebody, or both of us, end up yelling and crying.
We mostly try to be patient as he learns to communicate and wants to explore. It's still so much fun to watch him become increasingly aware of his world and all the things he can do it now. He mostly wants to do whatever Holden does, like ride a bike, scream or pee standing up at the toilet. His physical and mental accomplishments race neck-'n-neck all day. A simple walk around the block is a huge achievement, especially when you have to stop every few steps, pick up an armful of prickly balls, then toss them back on to the neighbor's lawn with a look of glee.
The best part is, even after one of our knock-down, drag-out stand-offs, Riley is still open to hugs and kisses. He quickly forgives, forgets and moves on to the next distraction. It's a wonderful thing to not hold grudges, and I wonder at what point in our lives we lose that ability. As he and his brother get older, they'll be mad at us for more things for increasingly longer periods of time. That hard-boiled egg boy will certainly be deviled one day. For now, we'll cherish his sunny side.
1 comment:
I love the egg analogy. So very cute - all of it.
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