Don't Dance While You're Eating Nuts!
If Andy is struggling while I try to change his diaper, I have a secret special tactic that I employ which will instantly change his demeanor. I smell his feet. I grab his feet, wrinkle my nose, take an exaggerated whiff, and then react as if I've smelled raw, hot sewage bubbling up from the city grates. "Oh my God, Andy," I gasp, crossing my eyes and gagging. "You have the stinkiest feet in all the world!" Andy rewards me with a full on belly laugh and then will often ask, "More!" Or, lately, "Two!" which is his request for me to smell both feet at once and act TWICE as sick to my stomach. "UGH," I'll dry heave. "Ugh! Oh man, I had my mouth open that time. Gross!" And as Andy laughs harder, I change his diaper quickly, and we are off to enjoy another two hours of playing "Elmo takes a nap" with his Sesame Street play set. See Andy? Even Elmo likes to nap! Good job, Elmo!
I chalk this up to just one of those things that parents do. We smell our kids' feet (or pretend to) and this act that would have been inconceivable to us in those magical, ten-hours-of-sleep per night years before having kids now seems perfectly normal. There are a lot of things I never imagined myself doing before Andy came along. Eating partially chewed food that Andy hands me during dinner as his way of sharing is one of those things. "Aww, Andy, you want Mommy to try some of what used to be a muffin? No, that's okay, you eat it. Oh, you insist? No, really, I already had my own... What? Oh, okay. Mmmm. Thank you, that was... soggy."
Chris and I construct all kinds of goofy sentences that would never have made any sense in our former, childless life. Chris is particularly good at this, proclaiming, quite seriously, "Don't dance while you're eating nuts" when Andy had almonds for the first time a few weeks ago (which, now that I think about it, I basically partially chewed for him, biting the almonds just enough to break them up before giving them to Andy. Gee, now this is all coming together for me.)
I am reaching a point where I think we need to be a little more careful about the things we do and say, though. Back to the feet smelling. It's all fine and good when Andy and I have a moment where I sniff his toes and fake passing out. But then, when we're with other people, and suddenly Andy is bent down on the floor smelling somebody else's socked foot and calling out, "Stinky feet!", well- then I need to remind myself that Andy is two and that the things we do at home are not just the things we do at home. They are the things that Andy will also do outside the home. And, surprisingly, not everyone wants to be told their feet smell.
I've already had that moment- just once- where I've dropped something and instinctively muttered "Shit," only to hear Andy repeating "Shit!" just off to my left. How do you come back from a moment like that, you ask? Only by offering, by way of distraction, "Hey, do you want me to smell your feet? Your TWO feet??"
I also think that I need to stop letting Andy follow me into the bathroom. During the day, it's impossible to shake that kid, and he is my constant shadow, calling out, "Where are you Mommy?" the very millisecond I exit his line of vision. If I try to go to the bathroom and shut the door behind me, he is sorrowfully banging on it almost instantaneously, sobbing, "Mommmmmmy! Andy potty TOOO!" He doesn't want to USE the potty, though. He just wants to be with me while I use it. And so I let him in, and he mills around while I finish up. Lately, he hands me toilet paper and does my flushing for me. This alone seems like it's crossing a line and should be reason enough for me to put my foot down once and for all and kick that damn kid out. But the other day, when he took a peek and muttered "Mommy owwie" and went to fetch sanitary supplies for me from under the sink- well then I realized, OKAY, THINGS HAVE DEFINITELY GONE TOO FAR. Only, aloud, I just said, quietly, "Thank you, Andy."
So here's what I have- a mission to stop smelling his feet, to most definitely watch my language, and to find some way to go to the potty alone. Otherwise, I risk raising a weirdo- an even bigger weirdo- who thinks all of these private family things are perfectly normal. Andy, when you are at preschool, I only hope that you are not sniffing your teachers' feet and following them into the bathroom to assist. But, oh, yeah, your father's right- don't dance while you're eating nuts. For real.
I chalk this up to just one of those things that parents do. We smell our kids' feet (or pretend to) and this act that would have been inconceivable to us in those magical, ten-hours-of-sleep per night years before having kids now seems perfectly normal. There are a lot of things I never imagined myself doing before Andy came along. Eating partially chewed food that Andy hands me during dinner as his way of sharing is one of those things. "Aww, Andy, you want Mommy to try some of what used to be a muffin? No, that's okay, you eat it. Oh, you insist? No, really, I already had my own... What? Oh, okay. Mmmm. Thank you, that was... soggy."
Chris and I construct all kinds of goofy sentences that would never have made any sense in our former, childless life. Chris is particularly good at this, proclaiming, quite seriously, "Don't dance while you're eating nuts" when Andy had almonds for the first time a few weeks ago (which, now that I think about it, I basically partially chewed for him, biting the almonds just enough to break them up before giving them to Andy. Gee, now this is all coming together for me.)
I am reaching a point where I think we need to be a little more careful about the things we do and say, though. Back to the feet smelling. It's all fine and good when Andy and I have a moment where I sniff his toes and fake passing out. But then, when we're with other people, and suddenly Andy is bent down on the floor smelling somebody else's socked foot and calling out, "Stinky feet!", well- then I need to remind myself that Andy is two and that the things we do at home are not just the things we do at home. They are the things that Andy will also do outside the home. And, surprisingly, not everyone wants to be told their feet smell.
I've already had that moment- just once- where I've dropped something and instinctively muttered "Shit," only to hear Andy repeating "Shit!" just off to my left. How do you come back from a moment like that, you ask? Only by offering, by way of distraction, "Hey, do you want me to smell your feet? Your TWO feet??"
I also think that I need to stop letting Andy follow me into the bathroom. During the day, it's impossible to shake that kid, and he is my constant shadow, calling out, "Where are you Mommy?" the very millisecond I exit his line of vision. If I try to go to the bathroom and shut the door behind me, he is sorrowfully banging on it almost instantaneously, sobbing, "Mommmmmmy! Andy potty TOOO!" He doesn't want to USE the potty, though. He just wants to be with me while I use it. And so I let him in, and he mills around while I finish up. Lately, he hands me toilet paper and does my flushing for me. This alone seems like it's crossing a line and should be reason enough for me to put my foot down once and for all and kick that damn kid out. But the other day, when he took a peek and muttered "Mommy owwie" and went to fetch sanitary supplies for me from under the sink- well then I realized, OKAY, THINGS HAVE DEFINITELY GONE TOO FAR. Only, aloud, I just said, quietly, "Thank you, Andy."
So here's what I have- a mission to stop smelling his feet, to most definitely watch my language, and to find some way to go to the potty alone. Otherwise, I risk raising a weirdo- an even bigger weirdo- who thinks all of these private family things are perfectly normal. Andy, when you are at preschool, I only hope that you are not sniffing your teachers' feet and following them into the bathroom to assist. But, oh, yeah, your father's right- don't dance while you're eating nuts. For real.
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