Just like last time, I went from wanting to clone my 2-year-old to wanting to put him up for adoption pretty much overnight – the night the baby was born.

It’s true. I love love love 2-year-olds. Until the moment they become big brothers. And then can’t they just be in school already?

We knew Squish would need some special attention when Little Miss* was born, and we tried to keep things as “normal” as we could for him. But it seems as though he changed over night. We thought if we kept our laps open for our cuddly boy to come sit in, he’d be fine. We thought if we had arms available for hugs after naptime, he’d be fine. We thought if we had ways for him to be “helpful” he’d be fine.

We thought wrong.

Because he didn’t want to cuddle any more. He didn’t need a hug after bedtime. And his idea of being helpful has drastically changed in a very short time.

For example: he used to be helpful by doing things we asked him to do. Often he would even see things that needed to be done and take care of it without being asked. But now he tries to be “helpful” by doing things we specifically ask him not to do.

“Can I have some peanuts for a snack?” he’ll say.

“Okay, I’ll get them down for you after I finish feeding the baby.”

But he’s got a chair and a sly smile and the will to do it himself.

“Please don’t climb up there,” I’ll say from my seat on the couch. “What did I say? Are you listening to me buddy?”

He’ll turn and give me another smile as he climbs from the chair to the counter and opens the cupboard, knowing I’m stuck in my seat with the baby on my breast.

*Sigh.*

It’s good to know he can do it himself, and he can do it safely, but he was still disobedient and he knew it.

Tricky little beast. Helpful, and yet not.

It’s been a bit of a challenge to get to know this new Squish and to not try to make him be the Squish we used to know. But we’ll get there. This new Squish is nearly potty-trained. He is now in pre-pre-school. He can ride his balance bike for over two miles. And he turns 3 next month. He’s not my baby any more, and he knows it. And that’s a good thing.

 

*Yes! I’ve settled on a pseudonym for the girl. Little Miss it is. Don’t be surprised if it turns into Little Miss Trouble, or Little Miss Sunshine, as the case may be.

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