Milestone: Got both of the boys into the car with ONLY ME driving (no Daddy, no grandparents). Happily, I might add, and went shopping for fruits and veggies at our local organic farm. I hesitantly mentioned jumping into the macchina (car) and getting some vegetables, fruit and ababa (flowers), and they said "Yay!"
We discussed stopping and going, (stop signs), big trucks, horses neighing, and the thirsty car needing gas on our way there. They very much enjoyed filling the baskets with food, but no, we don't need three heads of cabbage, thank you very much.
The Vit@min Water became an issue, unfortunately. Habtamu called it "juice," so I said we could get "only one," (something Habtamu understands and likes to enforce with his brother). He put one into the basket, and Lire saw this. He got one too, even though both H. and I repeated our mantra "only one." I figured I could secretly stash it back onto a shelf when he wasn't looking, but he never let it go. That's one of his charms. Once he has something in his hot little hands, that's it. Death Grip 2007.
I decided we could use two Vit@min Waters, I mean, who couldn't? Daddy can use it as a drink mixer. We arrived home with only one incident of Mommy pinching H's hand in the car door (!), and it was time to open the "juice." "Only one." Habtamu said, "Mommy, Daddy, Habtamu, Lire SHARE." He got that we were opening one and saving the other. Unfortunately, "share" is a word Lire despises with all of his 29 pounds. Once he saw "his" juice being put in the fridge, his body fell to the floor, limp and despondent. Legs splayed out, arms stiff with anger, frustration, injustice. Big, juicy tears flowed as he screamed at how absolutely criminal our behavior was. What interested me was that usually he saves these major screamfests for when he bangs his head or his brother pinches him.
About 15 minutes later Daddy arrived to join us for messai (lunch), distracting L. enough to stop crying for about 10 minutes. He took his formerly sour juice and drank it with gusto, banging his head on the counter. Another, shorter bout of tears this time.
A helping of yogurt, 2 pieces of peanut butter dabo (bread) later, and he is asleep. Ahh.
Erin (and Alex):
Reading this is all so beautiful and amazing.
I can't imagine what it takes to make the transition that all of you are making.
And at those ages! Our daughter is 3 and because it's the age of identity formation (negotiating alternating feelings of dependence and independence, articulating (i.e. screaming) wants and desires), I work daily at compassion and patience -- and often fail. So we'll be reading your blog, and sending you our good thoughts. Know that we're here for playdates and questions.
Posted by: Olati | June 06, 2007 at 10:53 AM
Wow Erin. I have loved reading your posts. It is amazing how something so simple as putting the joice in the fridge and driving alone in the car can invoke a major disruption in the daily rythym.
The boys are beautiful and obviously thriving. And I was hoping you could post more about eh homeopathy. I am very interested what approaches have worked.
Jamie
Posted by: fully operational battle station | June 06, 2007 at 02:17 PM
Erin, I am so familiar with this kind of tantrum and that kind of attachment to a bottle of juice or in our case (more often than not) packages of goldfish crackers. It is a wonder, isn't it, what those things can signify (or at least what they trigger) . . .
Posted by: abebech | June 06, 2007 at 05:21 PM