My Two-Year-Old’s a Capitalist

I recently started an incentive program for my daughter, Belle, who’s two. Basically, if she doesn’t push over her baby brother, Johnny, and stomp on his face, she gets an M&M. (Hey, we shoot for small victories during the “terrible twos.")

So I explain the ground rules and she says, “I’m all about that, Daddy. I’m a good girl.” Take that, Karl Marx!

Play-Dohn't
Before the incentive program, she asks: “Daddy, may I have Play-Doh?” You should know that giving Play-Doh to Belle before dinner is like giving Robert Downey, Jr. a bag of crack and sending him to LaGuardia Airport—bad things will happen.

I counter: “Will you stop playing and eat dinner when Mommy says it’s time?”

“No, Daddy,” she says. And Marx didn't think capitalists were honest!

Wax On, Wax Off
Before M&Ms were at play, Belle operated on the assumption it was easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission. We’re working on that, too, with a system that lands her in "timeout" if her poor behavior lasts to a count of “1, 2, 3.”

The key, psychologists tell us, is to remain calm no matter what she’s doing, because she’s misbehaving precisely to garner attention. Yeah, well, I'd like to see the psychologist remain calm when his daughter dips the clean rags in the dirty puddles in the driveway and proclaims, “Hey daddy, I helping wax the car!”

Waxing Poetic
Don’t get me wrong. This week, Belle and I flew her first kite and washed the car together for the first time. It isn’t always easy to slow down long enough to devote time to these types of activities but, when you do, it helps you to return to your own childhood. Plus you get to see that “I did it, Daddy!” look. I remember the expression on my dad’s face when I squirted him with the hose and when my kite finally sailed into the air. Now, I see it in reverse. It’s something a good friend of mine, author and cartoonist Jason Kotecki, calls “escaping adulthood” and freeing yourself from a disease he calls "Adultitis."

But just when your heart slows down a beat, your daughter tries to use your son as a squeegee.

So I count, “One… two…,” which triggers kids to ask the strangest things to change the subject. Belle asks: “Hey Daddy, what are those?”

“What are what?” I ask.

“Those,” she says, pointing to me.

“My chest?”

“No—those.”

“My nipples?”

“Yes!” she says, nodding. “Belle touch them…”

“No, thanks, Belle,” I say, “I’m good.”

Maybe we’ll stick to M&Ms.

March Madness is Every Month for Parents

I love March Madness because it’s the one time of year when parents can feel normal. Crazy things happen all the time during the NCAA Basketball Tournament, like when Cinderella teams defeat the heavy favorites.

So when your two-year-old daughter does things like pull her pants halfway down her little butt and run up and down the hall giggling and yelling: “Say no to crack, Mommy! Say no to crack!” it’s all good. Because, hey, it’s March Madness.

And this year, my daughter Belle is ready to cheerlead. For example, she recently chanted: “Here we go pot-ty, here we go!” to encourage her mommy.

“Great teamwork, Belle!” I said. “Way to practice like you’ll play!”

Stop the Madness
Sometimes March Madness goes too far, though. Like when your team suddenly starts thinking: Why pass it to our 7-foot teammate for a dunk when we could chuck up three-point shots from half court?

Belle uses the same logic. Like: Why bother to use the sink when you can just “rinse” your toothbrush in the toilet?

Or: Why bother with food when you can eat books? The other day I asked Belle why there was a rip in the corner of a page in the same shape Cookie Monster would leave on a cookie.

“I turn the pages myself!” she said.

Last weekend, we were in the grocery store, and Belle saw a nice fellow with dreadlocks walk by who looked kinda like that singer from Counting Crows.

She decided: Why ask the man his name when I can just vociferously ask Daddy, “What’s HER name?” The man smiled as he reached for the frozen broccoli. Then Belle whispered in my ear: “Her name (is) Sheepy!”

At least Belle is spreading March Madness by providing quality “senior leadership” to her baby brother. “Hey Belle,” I said, “Your brother’s crazy. I think he’s learning from you.”

“Good,” she said.

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