Monday, September 10, 2012

I Wish I Was One


It has been a long time since Jeff and I took care of a one-year old for more than a few hours.  Six years, to be exact.  And back then, it was two one-year olds.  It was all we could do to just keep them alive.  If it weren't for pictures, we wouldn't remember any of it.
 
We hosted my one-year old nephew for two nights this past weekend.  And while we really enjoyed his visit, by the end of bath time on the first night, Vincie was reneging on his recent request for a younger sibling.

"Mommy, it's just sooooo much work." 

  
I was most struck by how completely belligerent you get to be when you're one.  If I tried to pull half the crap that kid pulled this weekend, I'd have been thrown in the tank by Sunday night, guaranteed.

   
Most Memorable Moments:

  • One-year old physically assaults seventy pound black lab during every waking hour of entire two-day period.  Thick coat of back hair is pulled by the baby-fistful, tail is grabbed, and eyes are poked while lab is chased from room to room, upstairs and down, to unrelenting cries of "Gog!  Gog!  GOG!"


  • Verbal dispute between one-year old and kitchen trash compacter turns physical when trash compactor finishes thirty-second cycle.  One-year old delivers one kick and one open-handed smack to stainless steel trash compactor door before walking away, the apparent winner.


  • One-year old completely thwarts dishwasher emptying mission with layered tactical approach of first attempting to climb into the dishwasher, then attempting to pull out sharp utensils from lower rack by the handful, then lying down on the ground next to the dishwasher and pressing all the buttons along the top of the open, dishwasher door.


  • One-year old discovers six-pound, pristine white Chihuahua with pink collar at friend's birthday barbecue.  While his approach is slightly less physical than that employed with large lab breed, one-year old is equally persistent.  One-year old ultimately spits up combination of milk and watermelon on pristine, white Chihuahua.



Upon further reflection, I think the above would have landed me in a 28 day program, admitted against my will.  

And I'd be on the top of every SPCA watch list in the tri-county area.

That shit is real.