What My Kids Don't Know Hurts Me

What My Kids Don't Know Hurts Me is a blog about parenting.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Stages of Change

Rehab counselors say that, sometimes when you're trying to help an addict recover, you have to accept that he or she will probably reject you at first. Then later, perhaps, they'll come around to listening about getting help. I think that's equally true with toddlers.


My four-year-old, Isabella, remembers everything I say. For example, the other day
I said, "Belle, please don't run with the toothbrush in your mouth." She kept running, of course. "Belle, you could fall, get a big owie. You don't want to go to the hospital, do you?"

"Yes, I want to go to the hospital!" Belle said, running into her room and slamming the door in my face. Tha
t reminded me of Amy Winehouse singing, "They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said no, no, no." >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Two nights later, her little brother Johnny is running with a toothbrush in his mouth, and Belle grabs him and says, "Johnny, don't run with your toothbrush. You don't want to go to the hospital, do you?" It was like our own little Toothbrush Runners Anonymous.

Baby Crack
Speaking of addictions, my two-year-old Johnny is especially calcified to his pacifier. We've weened him down to having it only while sleeping. But he knows it's in his crib, so he'll climb in there to get a hit of the nuk.


"John, get out of there," I say.

My mom's on the phone and she asks, "What's going on over there?"


"Johnny wants his nuk," I say. "It's like baby crack."


Johnny runs by giggling and repeating "baby crack, baby crack, baby crack!"


Belle's addiction is singing and dancing. Here's a sample:



'My Arm Got Stuck'
Belle has other interesting interests.
At her recent birthday party she turned four. Belle invited her good friend, and that friend's mom breastfeeds her baby.

So after the party, Belle goes to bed. A few minutes later, I hear Belle screaming and run into her bedroom expecting to see that she fell out of bed or had a terrible nightmare.

"What's wrong, Belle?"
"My arm's stuck in my shirt!" she says.  Indeed, her right arm is stuck in the place where her neck should be.

I help her get unstuck. "How'd that happen, Belle?"

"I was breast-feeding Minnie Mouse and my arm got stuck."

copyright 2008 Christopher Hollenback, all rights reserved

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