The Muppet Dictator

So much of my day at home is filled with Bucky testing my limits.

Just today I was writing an email when he slowly approached from behind and proceeded to see just how close he could get to my ear whilst creating a cacophony of sucking on his sippy-cup.  One could argue he didn't know I have a very sensitive bubble when working on the computer. Maybe he also didn't know that the sound of chewing, or mouth sounds in general, are perhaps my biggest pet peeve.  Or perhaps maybe he did know and decided to see what would happen when he put both of them together.  Well played Bucky. . . Well played.

There is also the foremost example of his boundary crossing expertise that happened the day Bucky approached me with his big wily smile and proceeded to start by gently patting my knee once and with each successive tap it grew harder and harder and harder. Each time the love tap was followed by "I'm hitting?" "I'm hitting?" and the shmarmy smile growing bigger and bigger. I'm on to you Bucky McBuckerson.

Of course, this is completely normal behavior for any 2yo.  They must discover the laws of the land and figure out what makes a hit, a hit.  But to say that I am easily able to dismiss this constant prodding, on the basis that it is simply human nature, would be completely inaccurate. I quickly go through the list of choices in my head of how best to manifest the mounting frustration.  There is the stink-eye, the timeout, the "Do you want me to decapitate your beloved stuffed animal giraffe Jimmy-John?". (The last of course is to cruel to ever use or even threaten with, but I can dream can't I?)  Although, the most naturally occurring reaction, in my equal opportunity home, is to return the favor to Bucky. I shall test his limits.

Another one of Bucky's common 2yo traits is wanting consistency and normalcy and things to be the same each and every time he encounters them.  Very often he'll walk into a room where we've just moved a stationary item and with the greatest look of concern he will inquire, "What happened here?"

Just moments ago, Mamma was reading Bucky his bedtime book.  Each night he chooses two books and has recently got in the habit of telling us around 12 times in rapid sucession that "This one be normal and this one be normal. Normal. Normal."  This is to make certain that no silly voices or word substitutions are used.  With Bucky's prologue finished, Mamma proceeded to read a book about sounds.  "Zoe's bell goes 'Ring! Ring!' Oscar's hammer goes 'Bam! Bam! Bam!' Telly's stopwatch goes 'Bplbhpphb! Bplbhbpp!'" "No!" Bucky exclaims, "Not like that!" Mamma laughs, but Bucky is all too serious and commands that she start again.  Mamma must have a hard time reading, because she messes up over and over again. Meanwhile, Bucky's reality is being tampered with and he is being pressed towards his limit.

Finding that fine line is the key. Go over it and you've created a tantrum and possibly some broken toddler synapses that can never be repaired.  It may be prudent to never even get close to that line to avoid such scenarios, but please remember, we're talking about revenge equality here.

So one day, after one of my above said manifestations was eagerly waiting to spill forth on to Bucky, we sat side by side on the couch watching a children's show that is very near and dear to him. Wonder Pets.

If you understand Bucky's need for universal harmony from above, you will understand why he loves this show.  It is consistent and unchanging.  The plot is ALWAYS the same. It goes like this.

The kids leave school. The Wonder Pets get a call on their tin-can phone. There's a baby animal in trouble. (I have to be careful writing this as I might burst out in song.) There's a problem with the fly-boat. They fix it with teamwork. They get to the baby animal. Just so happens the solution they found to fix the fly-boat is the same thing they need to save the baby animal! OH HAPPY DAY! Let's celebrate by enjoying a piece of celery!!

Yep. Each and every time. However, there was that one time where a stuffed animal giraffe ended up getting beheaded. Oh wait. That was my dream again.

Back to the couch. I seized my opportunity. "Hey Bucky, did they fix the shny-foat?" "The fly-boat," he responds with an agitated giggle. "Ohhh," I say. A moment later. "Is that the naby shnorcufline?" Without removing his gaze from the screen, "Baby Porcupine!" "Oh right. Baby Porcupine," I say. This correction on my behalf is much to his satisfaction and in turn allows me a few more rounds. "They're really good at cream turk!" "Team work!" This awards me a dirty look, and checkmate is insight. I go for the kill. "Hey Bucky. What's the name of this show?" "Wonder Pets." "Blunder Pets?" "Wonder Pets!" "Schnunder Getz?" "WONDER PETS!" "Grundy Underpants?"  And with the miraculous muppet unhinging of his jaw and all the fury of the Führer he slams his hand on the arm rest with each syllable, "WON. DER. PETS!!!" 

I have tested and reached the limit. I bask briefly in this victory, again for equality's sake, and then make sure he still loves me by announcing very articulately, "Wonder Pets."  He looks at me, laughs, and nods approvingly. Peace and unity have been restored to the universe. I too, of course, am having a good laugh and thinking all the while, "This is all very particular from a boy who also has affections for another TV show he calls, 'Bulb Day Burbur.'"


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD

Potty Prizes and Quiet Time Surprises

On and off for the past 4 months we've been trying to potty train Bucky. We had some great initial success with the number two's, but the realist side of me said this was too easy. It turns out, that 2 months into it Bucky could care less whether he used the potty or his diaper. He wasn't opposed to the toilet, but rather indifferent. Pretty normal shenanigans (so I'm told.)

Thus far we've enticed him with a solid portion of chocolate chips, which has lost its initial luster but still holds some value for when he craves them. I then turned to logic and reasoning as Bucky actually has an unnatural amount of each thinking that this would work. "Only babies poop in their diapers. Big boy's poop in the potty." And blatant repetition, "Poop in the potty. Not in the diaper." - x1000. After a month of the logic and reasoning, Bucky could recite ever rule and every reward to using the bathroom. Still his preferred bowel movement sanctuary remained his diaper.

Finally, after discovering his natural #2 rhythm (just after Sesame Street, and during his quiet time), I would hound him relentlessly during the closing credits and just before QT. "Do you want to use the potty?" "No" "Do you have to poop?" "No" "Okay, if you have to go potty let me know/ask for help/come out of your room." "Okay." "Where do you poop?" "In the potty!" "Where do you not poop?" "In my diaper!" Checking on his quiet time 10 minutes later, if often reminded me of what it must have been like walking in to Lazarus's tomb.

There is a part of his mind set that I can't argue with. The idea of being able to relieve yourself wherever and whenever you want does have its allure. However, wiping only one butt instead of two was much more important to me. I needed to come up with something new. Something visual. Some form of bribery.

Potty Prizes:

This program is still in its infancy, but I'm already seeing hopeful results. I went off to FedEx Office with 6 images of things Buckeye loves. In no particular order: Bubbles, Fungooms, Chocolate Chips, Diego et al., Chocolate Milk, and Popsicles. I printed them out in 3x4 color and stuck them with velcro to the opposite wall of the toilet. Each time he deposits a gift or stays there for 8 minutes he's able to collect a potty prize. (After washing his hands) he tears one off with only the joy that a toddler can have over chocolate chips and races to wherever the prize may be. He then cashes in his token and then has 5 more chances through the day. However, if by chance he does fill his diaper, dear PaPa gets to take one away.

We really don't want to get angry or upset with him if he continues to use his diaper as his first choice and don't want anything to seem like a punishment when it comes to potty training. So part of the reason I came up with this idea is that it reminds me of the phrase I always here about driving and driver's licenses. It's a privilege not a right. These prizes are privileges not rights and therefore when one is taken away it shouldn't feel like a punishment. The catch comes that I may not see it as one, but what if Bucky does? I know I said that he's got a high sense of reasoning, but even I struggle with right and privilege. Luckily, he's had a few taken away now and no melt downs. I think we'll be alright.

So three days in and 7 deposits at the potty and 2 in the diaper. So far so good. I'll let you know.

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Quiet time for Bucky happens everyday at 1. Just after lunch. He can choose whether he would like to nap or not. If he does it means some quiet time for Daddy. If he doesn't it means an earlier bed time. We set the timer for 30 minutes and when it goes off some times he is asleep and others he runs out and screams "Timer goes off!"

Usually if he chooses not to sleep he's very good about staying in his bed and reading the books or playing with the couple toys we let him have during that time. Today was much different.

Today, by luck, I had Jack asleep for one of his cat naps and Bucky in for quiet time at the same time. I'm slightly addicted to low tech internet games and decided to sneak a few minutes in. From where I sit at the computer I have a clear shot down the hall to Bucky's door. About 20 minutes in, (10 minutes before the timer is set to go off,) I see blonde flash of light out of the corner of my eye. It is Bucky's head sticking out of his door watching me, waiting for me to notice. He's been a sweet boy all day and I invite him to come sit with me.

My fault here is that I failed to go see what Bucky had been up to during his quiet time. I asked him the obligatory, "Did you poop in your diaper?", but that answer came up negative with a visual check. For this is the reason he usually interrupts his quiet time. I pass it off as he is just not tired.

30 minutes later when I am very proud of him for initiating the Potty Prize plan on his own, I head to his bedroom to grab a new diaper. I enter his room and again I capture a flash of white out of the corner of my eye when not expected. This is the sight I received:

Not only had he taken out all the new diapers of the box I had just opened, but he had also transferred and emptied the used diapers to his bed. (Speaking of Lazarus's tomb.)

How could I be mad? To his credit he did it very quietly.


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Stay-at-Home Dad, stay at home dad, SAHD