Saturday, October 21, 2006

Toddlers are Cute for a Reason

...otherwise, the human race would have been extinct long ago.

I'm actually taking a moment (or two) to pull some laundry out of the dryer. Laurel is playing nearby and Ian is playing with his trains, or so I think. I quickly try to get the shirts and pants on hangers, trying to avoid wrinkles, because once a garment is wrinkled in my house, it stays that way. I am seriously iron phobic.

As I busily hang clothes, I hear unfamiliar noises coming from Ian's direction. Scratch, scratch, scratch, repeatedly over and over again. "Ian must be rolling his cars and trains on the wall," I think to myself. Wanting to get the last few articles out of the dryer, I ineffectively yell out, "Ian, put your cars on the floor."

Ian's two years old. Without direct intervention on my behalf, he of course continues rolling the vehicles on the wall. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. The sounds are becoming shorter in length, but quicker in repetition, so I finally give in and decide to intervene. I turn the corner around the staircase, walk into the living room and find Ian busily expressing his artistic self. Ball point pen in hand, he continues to draw line after line after line. For a minute, I stand there numb, observing this innocent act. Innocent? Yes, innocent. So far, the rule of not writing on the walls remains to be explained to this exploring tot.

Eventually, I regain my wits and grab his wrist mid stroke. The intent, focused look on his face fades as he turns and smiles at me. "Mommy, lines," he proudly points out.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Touching the stereo, yet again, Ian winds up in timeout. He is familiar with this routine, and accepts his consequence without a single whimper. Squatting down to be at his eye level, I matter-of-factly state, "Ian, you are in timeout for touching the stereo. You are not allowed to touch the stereo." I stand up, set a timer for two minutes and walk away.

Two minutes later, beep, beep, beep. "All done," a little voice sings out.

I walk back to Ian's residence of reflection to hear his apology. Before I squat down, something next to him catches my eye. "What is that on the floor?" I ponder.

Bits of paper lie in a pile beside the kitchen cabinet. "Ian, did you tear up a newspaper?" I ask since the recycle bin was within reach.

"Mommy, paper come off wall," he points out.

Then I see it, a now white area where there once was wallpaper.



Trying to look innocent are ya? Yeah, you're cute, darn it. Just don't push it. These actions won't fly ever again.

6 comments:

carrie said...

Oh, but that face, and those eyes!!!

Stick to your guns momma, and get yourself a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser!!

Carrie

Lady M said...

What a cutie!

Yes, cuteness does totally save their lives, doesn't it. Over and over.

Mrs. Chicky said...

Oh wow! He is really lucky he's cute because he is a destructive force to be reckoned with!

On the other hand he's got a career ahead of him as a wallpaper stripper.

Elizabeth said...

hunter loves to draw on everything too whew!!

Damselfly said...

So true that they are cute for a reason. I once took a child psychology class (I just needed a pysch credit, and the child-oriented course happened to fit my schedule), where we students learned children's cuteness is their defense mechanism.

Mary P. said...

Look at that wall! How did he reach up so high??

I once made a list of all the mischief my then 2-yr-old son got into in one day. It ran the full length of a piece of binder paper, one item per line, double-spaced. (I'm sure I have it, somewhere.) He's still alive to tell the tale, because I am a Very Good Mommy, and he was Some Cute.