Fighting like cats and dogs

First things first - I don't have any new pictures to post. Because both Mama and Papa have been really busy at work, my picture-taking has fallen off lately. As has my blogging, which is certainly obvious to my long-suffering, but incredibly dedicated fans.

The lack of pictures is a real failure on my part because the kids are getting bigger by the day. Margaret is starting to display that skinny, scrawny, long-limbed look that one sees in grade school kids. Every so often, I'll pick her up and will think, "My goodness, she's getting tall and thin." Even Teddy is starting to lose his baby fat. He still has impressive thighs and a good-sized belly, which he likes to display when prompted, but he's also starting to sprout up and, in the process, thin out a bit. (He isn't doing so well with the potty. No resistance, but no interest. At least not at home, although the daycare teachers tell us that he's perfectly happy to use the potty at school. Fits in well with the personality traits that I'm about to describe.)

Beyond these physical changes, there have been two notable developments. The first is an emerging independent streak in Teddy. Actually, it's not so much an independent streak as it is an obstinate streak. Teddy likes the word "No." But as he's gotten older, his language skills have developed such that his use of "no" is more sophisticated than a toddler who just declares "no" in response to everything. So we have: "Teddy, can you eat some of your dinner?" "No, I don't like it." "But Teddy, you liked this the last time we had it." "But I don't like it now!"

Fighting with Teddy about food has become a pretty standard routine. Margaret has never been very picky about her food, especially when a "special treat" looms as a reward at the end of dinner. But Teddy is increasingly reluctant to try things. This is a problem. Because Papa cooks some pretty good food - like mushroom risotto tonight - and knows the boy will like it if he just will try it, but just can't get it into his mouth. He's not picky in the sense that he doesn't actually like most of the food that we eat (and I'm right: when he actually eats most things, he likes them), but he's picky in a strategic way. He knows that its drives Papa crazy and so, quite naturally, he won't eat.

And this obstinance extends to basically everything that Teddy does. "What do you want to do today?" "I want to play tennis." "How about soccer? We can go to the park and kick the ball." "No, I want to play tennis." And then, two hours later, "When are we going to play tennis?" Or "Do you want to go to the grocery store with Papa?" "No." "Not even if you get a croissant?" "No, I don't want a croissant." "But you like croissants." "No, I don't."

So Teddy is a bit difficult at this point. Recently, I have asked Abby whether Margaret was similarly difficult at the same age. She hems and haws which I take to mean that "Yes, all two-year-olds are difficult." But I honestly can't remember getting as frustrated with Margaret as I do with Teddy. Perhaps I should scan through the archives of this blog to see whether I can find a similar post about the girl.

The second development, which is more problematic in the big scheme of things because it may last much, much longer, is the sibling warfare that we have started to experience. Margaret and Teddy bicker and fight. A lot. Over really silly things. Like who has the "blue cup." Or, if they both have blue cups, who has the "light blue cup." It's really amazing what they'll fight over: the table at which the eat breakfast has two identical chairs, but one of them will decide that a certain chair is the preferred chair and must be used. At which point the other decides that he or she cannot do without that specific chair. Despite the fact that it's exactly the same as the other freakin' chair!!!

Now, logic is completely useless in this type of situation. The best that one can do is to either distract them ("Hey, do you see a garbage truck out there?"), fool them ("Here's your plate, Margaret. No wait, that's Teddy's plate. No wait, it's your plate."), or make everything equivalent whenever possible ("You both have light blue cups.") And even if one can get past these little spats about who has what, the kids are constantly banging into each other in ways that lead to conflict. So Teddy will bodyslam Margaret who will begin to howl. Or Margaret will grab Teddy's hat and will dance off with it in a way that causes Teddy to howl. Neither the bodyslam nor the hat are important in the big scheme of things, but both of them know that what they're doing will get a rise from the other. And, more importantly, will get a rise out of Papa.

Here's a microcosm of our current life: on Saturday morning, we woke up with both of the kids in bed with us. (They're doing better about sleeping in their own beds through the night, partly because we bribe them with stickers, but by the dawn, both kids usually end up in our bed at some point.) After an initial negative exchange with Teddy about the grocery store and croissants (as described above), Teddy started prodding his sibling. Margaret: "Stop it Teddy." Me: "Teddy, quit it." A pause. Then more squirming and poking. Margaret: "Stop it Teddy!" Me: "Teddy, I'm serious, knock it off!" A brief lull. Then more squirming, poking, and kicking followed, in a very pained, whiny voice, by "STOP IT TEDDY!!!!!" At which point Mama, always the reasonable party in these disputes, swung Margaret over to her other side away from the boy.

But remember, it's 6:30 in the morning. All of this is going on during the first 10 minutes of our time together. It just foreshadows a long day of sibling disputes, Papa explosions, and Mama interventions.