The Tyrant really isn't a tyrant, he's a great kid with a strong sense of self. Luckily, he has his father's laid back personality with a healthy dose of humor in there to make it interesting. When he was born, The Big O and I immediately fell in love with this little bundle of squeeziness. He was an angel sent from on high and we couldn't have been happier. I nursed him exclusively until he was almost 6 months but that little darling had been sleeping through the night at 2 months. He ate almost anything you gave him with a smile on his face. Actually, he still does most everything with a smile on his face.
At the end of the month, he'll be two years old. While he is still my perfect angel, he's attempting to assert himself in ways that I don't appreciate. Like when he whips his blocks at Peanuty Goodness and beans him in the head. (Unfortunately, Peanuty Goodness has a huge head. Seriously, his head is melon-sized, it's pretty hard to miss.) Thankfully Peanuty Goodness doesn't seem to mind overly much, I think he's just pleased to be part of the action.
And I have to admit, the swearing thing was kind of funny. The first time. It's a little adorable to hear your kid mispronounce a word that'll make you slap the taste out of his mouth when he says it later on in life. But after the first time, I just cringe thinking that I'm going to have to watch my language. As it is, I apparently say "Ummm" a lot if he repeats it as often as I say it.
Today, it appears that I have to watch my attitude also. The Tyrant gets a pacifier at nap and bed time only. When he wakes up, he knows he has to leave them (yes, he gets three. I call it a gluttony of pacifiers) in the crib. He woke up happy today and when I went in to get him, he was all smiles and wanting to get out. Some days he wakes up miserable and just wants to be left in his crib for a while. We accommodate this because it's easier to leave him in there than fight a silly battle.
He stood up and threw his pacifier down. It bounced a couple of times and fell onto the floor underneath the crib. This is where the dust grizzlies live. Dust bunnies are no match for dust grizzlies. No matter how often I vacuum, those bastards seem to hibernate and come back. When he saw that his pacifier had fallen under the crib, he made a sound that can only be described as disgusted. Thoaty, gutteral and full of attitude. I laughed my fool head off.
Again, let's hope that this is the worst of what he picks up from me. Cause I'm going to be paying for that attitude later on in life when he becomes a teenager and makes me wish that instead of kids, we had just gotten another dog.
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