Andy Picks His Seat!

About two weeks ago, Andy decided that he no longer wanted to eat while seated in his high chair. This happened out of the blue, and caught me totally off guard. "Dinner time!" I called out to Andy, carrying his plastic plate of miscellaneous food stuff over to his high chair. Normally, Andy would trot eagerly behind me and wait patiently to be lifted up into his regal, if not totally caked in crumbs and various stickinesses, seat at the head of the table. I'll admit thoroughly cleaning off his high chair has not been a post-meal priority for me as of late. Or ever. Perhaps that's why Andy refuses to sit there- sitting in a gritty pool of old graham cracker bits stuck in gummy dots of carrot puree when we haven't bought either of those items in six months may not be the most appetizing setting in which to dine.

I carried his plate over to his high chair, but Andy stopped short at the chair next to mine. Looking up at me with his big dark eyes, he pointed insistently up at the chair. "Is that where you want to eat today?" I asked, uncertain. Andy nodded firmly, but I wavered for a moment. Was I really ready to let Andy sit in a normal chair at the table? In the high chair, he was basically trapped until I was ready to release him. In a regular chair, what was to stop him from leaping off mid-meal and decorating the wall with pasta sauce handprints before I even had time to absorb the seriousness of the situation?

"Andy, are you sure... ah, to hell with it," I muttered, setting his plate down on the table and pulling the chair out for him. I lifted him up, sat him down, and pushed him in. I realized then that Andy had pretty much chosen the best seat in the house for himself, the one I used to sit in before we stuck his high chair at the other end of the table away from the entrance in and out of the kitchen. The chair was aimed perfectly for television viewing (yes, I often forget to turn the TV off while we're eating, one of my many Be A Better Parent resolutions for 2012) and was located at the end of the table for easy access and convenience to the pantry, fridge, et cetera. Plus, it was right next to Mommy. Best seat in the house.

I grabbed my own plate and sat down next to him. We were eating before Chris had arrived home from work (waiting for my husband to arrive home before serving dinner is one of my neglected Be A Better Wife resolutions for 2012, but do you have any idea how quickly chicken nuggets go cold?). Since it was just me and Andy on one side of the table, it felt like one of those strange dates where the couple decides to sit together on the same side of the booth for no apparent reason other than to make everyone else in the restaurant wonder what the hell is wrong with them.

It was a funny feeling, sitting next to Andy in his newly self-appointed place at the table. Since I didn't have the booster seat handy, Andy was sitting low on the chair, just high enough to eat off the table but with his little head hovering close to the table surface. He seemed very at ease and comfortable in his new seat, though, munching on his dinner happily while his feet dangled just off the edge of the chair. And I thought to myself, "Wow. This is my baby. This is my little man, who's growing up so quickly and is now starting to inform ME of when he's ready to leave behind his "baby items." For a moment, I felt a little verklempt. What the heck, Andy? What's next? First you trade in your high chair for a real chair, now are you going to insist on being the one to drive us to day care in the morning?

I bet he'd be a terrible driver, what with how easily distracted he is. Plus his hands, they're freakishly small, not great for grasping the wheel, switching gears, or texting while juggling a coffee.

He surprises me sometimes on how much he's developed. There are still plenty of moments where he's my baby, especially around bed and nap time and when he just wants to be picked up and cuddled, but there are increasingly more moments when I am shocked to realize that he's a kid. An actual kid, and not just a baby. Watching Andy go down the slide is one of these moments- the sheer joy on his face as he comes down and then turns around to run back up is amazing and beautiful. Also, his sense of humor surprises me. Lately, he's been faking me out- offering me something, such as a card or small toy, and then snatching it back away from me when I reach for it. This causes him to erupt into giggles and I know how pleased he is with his "gotcha!" joke. That being said, the gotcha! fake-out is kind of a douchey move, and I should probably do something soon to eradicate that behavior.

With all of the sweet, tender growing up moments, there are also the tantrums and the times when I see that Andy is knowingly challenging me. He sets out to test me on how much he can get away with and proceeds to be naughty even after he's been scolded or (however mildly) punished. He pushes and tries to manipulate me, both advanced (or so I thought) manuevers that I wasn't yet prepared for. He attempts to outsmart me, and while I'm clearly the smarter one here, there are times I wonder- how much longer do I stay the smarter one? When will I be out-smarted by my own spawn? And I remind myself that no matter how much he may frustrate me in the future, I must refrain from calling him a son-of-a-bitch, because as all kids know, if they're the son-of-a-bitch, that does not bode well for the mother of the son.

Since choosing his new seat at the table those two weeks ago, Andy has eaten all of his meals there. I still have his high chair sitting in its place for two reasons- if we do an art project, I NEED him confined, and, by the end of the year, I'll have a new little eater ready to start on purees, etc. While there are plenty of moments when I'm scared about having this second baby and what it will do to our current family dynamic, in which Andy rules all and gets all, there are also lots of times when I'm relieved I have another little guy on the way, a new baby to take the place that Andy is leaving behind. A new high chair sitter. A new crib sleeper, as Andy's on his way out of that sometime soon, too. A new butt for the Bumbo, a new warm body for the baby swing. I'm so happy to add on to my family and get to see another little guy grow. My only faint fear, though? What happens when the SECOND baby starts growing up? And there's no new baby to replace THAT baby???

I wonder how many babies I can reasonably talk Chris into? How about an even six?

Hmm. Six is kind of a lot. That's a lot of years of not getting any sleep. Ah, screw it, I think we'll probably just stick with the two.