In which resource preservation strategies are devised
Some years ago, a friend of mine (who has twin boys, it should perhaps be noted) related to me the story of the boys' 12 month well-baby check, at which the doctor said, "Congratulations. You've now moved out of life support mode and into suicide prevention mode." At the time I thought it was funny. Now I realize that it means they not only need to be protected from doing the things that will cause themselves grievous bodily injury, but also that the parents must be wary of over-enthusiastically banging their heads into the wall.
We had a slightly different experience at the IchiRow's 18 month well-baby appointment. The doctor looked at him and said, "He's right on track fro an average three years old. That means that you have a special child-proofing challenge ahead of you, since he can reach everything a three year old can reach. Also, people will expect more mature behavior from him than he's capable of. When you take him into social situations, you might just lead off by dropping a comment like, "And can you believe he's not even two yet?" just to set the stage." I haven't been *that* worried about it because the iBoo was always really good about staying out of things that she's supposed to stay out of. The IchiRow, however, is into EVERYTHING. He's obsessed with unraveling dental floss. He finds toothbrushes sitting around and chews on them. He will empty any Kleenex box he gets his hands on in 5 seconds flat. I still don't know where my watch is. We find odd socks all over the house (and if you catch him carrying one around, you might be able to get him to play fetch with it). The other day, I caught him dipping his purloined toothbrush in the toilet and brushing his teeth with it. Today, I found him in the shower stall I'd just exited licking water off of the floor.
He. Is. In. To. EVERYTHING.
After a morning of such interventions, I looked over and saw him with an entire roll of toilet paper unspooled around him. "ICHIROW! NO!" I bellowed. Then I stomped downstairs.
"So have we entered the suicide prevention stage now?" HRH asked.
"No," I said, "we've entered the toiletry conservation stage."
When I went back upstairs, he had the whole wad of unraveled toilet paper in his hand, and he offered it to me with great contrition. He's a good kid. But you've been warned: If we come to your house, guard well your toiletries, lest they become spoils of a tiny incomprehensible war.
We had a slightly different experience at the IchiRow's 18 month well-baby appointment. The doctor looked at him and said, "He's right on track fro an average three years old. That means that you have a special child-proofing challenge ahead of you, since he can reach everything a three year old can reach. Also, people will expect more mature behavior from him than he's capable of. When you take him into social situations, you might just lead off by dropping a comment like, "And can you believe he's not even two yet?" just to set the stage." I haven't been *that* worried about it because the iBoo was always really good about staying out of things that she's supposed to stay out of. The IchiRow, however, is into EVERYTHING. He's obsessed with unraveling dental floss. He finds toothbrushes sitting around and chews on them. He will empty any Kleenex box he gets his hands on in 5 seconds flat. I still don't know where my watch is. We find odd socks all over the house (and if you catch him carrying one around, you might be able to get him to play fetch with it). The other day, I caught him dipping his purloined toothbrush in the toilet and brushing his teeth with it. Today, I found him in the shower stall I'd just exited licking water off of the floor.
He. Is. In. To. EVERYTHING.
After a morning of such interventions, I looked over and saw him with an entire roll of toilet paper unspooled around him. "ICHIROW! NO!" I bellowed. Then I stomped downstairs.
"So have we entered the suicide prevention stage now?" HRH asked.
"No," I said, "we've entered the toiletry conservation stage."
When I went back upstairs, he had the whole wad of unraveled toilet paper in his hand, and he offered it to me with great contrition. He's a good kid. But you've been warned: If we come to your house, guard well your toiletries, lest they become spoils of a tiny incomprehensible war.