The Moppet, she does not approve
My darling moppet is now in month number two of a serious “mommy thing,” and it has her daddy feeling down.
It started in January, when we went out west for a family vacation. After five days of mountain fun (feeding my snow-crack habit) I came home whilst the moppet and the curvaceous goddess I call my wife flew to Western Colorado to spend another week with relatives.
Ever since then, the exclamations: “I want MOMMY!” or “No… MOMMY!” have been like little shivs puncturing my skin. OK, yes, I KNOW not to take this personally… but two MONTHS?!?
Silly me, a big man caught up in winning the affection of a two-year-old. But that’s what I’ve done. Or, rather, what I’ve tried to do. We spent every Saturday in February taking swimming lessons together at the Y and exploring the playgrounds of greater southeast Atlanta. Most weeknights have been spent reading countless books.
But when it’s time for baths, dressing, mid-night comforting or even diaper changing, daddy is still persona non grata. Child, this woman may have given birth to you, but I was holding her hand (and, um, her leg) at the time. I ain’t chopped liver. Well, maybe I am, but I’m YOUR chopped liver.
This is not cool, because for us to function well, mommy and daddy need to be interchangeable on the child maintenance front. You see, occasionally mommy needs to do other things, like make dinner or visit her scrapbooking pals… or maybe, possibly, sleep or pee!
And then there are the tantrums.
Just a few days ago, as valiant daddy attempted to get the moppet ready to bed (the Goddess was making dinner) the moppet began pitching a fit as daddy got her ready for a bath – mommy had to come in and place her in the tub for her to go along.
Then the PJs-and-milk routine? Not pretty. The moppet shrieked, screamed and cried (all words except “mommy” being unintelligible) and was flopping around like a caught fish by the time we got to the couch for milk. The Goddess had to put dinner on hold to rescue me and calm down the child.
The good news is that the worst of this seems to have subsided, and she seems to be liking daddy a lot more over the few days since The Tantrum (as I’ve come to think of it).
Naturally, I’m writing this on an airplane, set to spent another five days away. So when I get back, I’m going to have to start over.
The nice thing is that by the time I get through this, I will be ALL SET for her sullen teenage years.
It started in January, when we went out west for a family vacation. After five days of mountain fun (feeding my snow-crack habit) I came home whilst the moppet and the curvaceous goddess I call my wife flew to Western Colorado to spend another week with relatives.
Ever since then, the exclamations: “I want MOMMY!” or “No… MOMMY!” have been like little shivs puncturing my skin. OK, yes, I KNOW not to take this personally… but two MONTHS?!?
Silly me, a big man caught up in winning the affection of a two-year-old. But that’s what I’ve done. Or, rather, what I’ve tried to do. We spent every Saturday in February taking swimming lessons together at the Y and exploring the playgrounds of greater southeast Atlanta. Most weeknights have been spent reading countless books.
But when it’s time for baths, dressing, mid-night comforting or even diaper changing, daddy is still persona non grata. Child, this woman may have given birth to you, but I was holding her hand (and, um, her leg) at the time. I ain’t chopped liver. Well, maybe I am, but I’m YOUR chopped liver.
This is not cool, because for us to function well, mommy and daddy need to be interchangeable on the child maintenance front. You see, occasionally mommy needs to do other things, like make dinner or visit her scrapbooking pals… or maybe, possibly, sleep or pee!
And then there are the tantrums.
Just a few days ago, as valiant daddy attempted to get the moppet ready to bed (the Goddess was making dinner) the moppet began pitching a fit as daddy got her ready for a bath – mommy had to come in and place her in the tub for her to go along.
Then the PJs-and-milk routine? Not pretty. The moppet shrieked, screamed and cried (all words except “mommy” being unintelligible) and was flopping around like a caught fish by the time we got to the couch for milk. The Goddess had to put dinner on hold to rescue me and calm down the child.
The good news is that the worst of this seems to have subsided, and she seems to be liking daddy a lot more over the few days since The Tantrum (as I’ve come to think of it).
Naturally, I’m writing this on an airplane, set to spent another five days away. So when I get back, I’m going to have to start over.
The nice thing is that by the time I get through this, I will be ALL SET for her sullen teenage years.
posted by Godric of Finchale | 3:31 PM
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