Just Say No

All non-parents make the best parents before they have kids. We watch other parents battling it out with rowdy toddlers or bratty teens and think, Ugh, why do those parents give in to their horribly behaved kids? Why don't they just say no and that's it. When I'm a parent, my kid will never act that way and will know that no means no. We are smug because we can be. Having not failed at anything parental, we are, by default, big winners in that department.
Now that I am a parent, it's easy to see that I will be eating my words from the past. I tried to say no to Ethan for the first time yesterday (sorry grandmas, it's true). Ethan's habit of throwing his pacifiers out of his crib has moved from cute to annoying to downright ridiculous, and I want it to stop. So yesterday I thought, maybe I just need to sternly say no to him and he'll get the picture.
Once he went down for his nap, it was business as usual: roll onto left side, pick up extra paci, play with it, throw it over the side of crib, roll onto tummy, scooch to front of crib, arch up like cobra and throw remaining paci through the rungs, lean over bumper and try to look at paci down below, start crying because crib is now paci-less. This is the scene I watch on our video monitor nearly every day lately. It's like the movie Groundhog Day over here at nap time.
I had had enough of it, though, so when Ethan played out his favorite act yesterday, I marched into the nursery right after he fired his last paci-bullet, leaned over him and said emphatically "NO!" (The exclamation point is for effect. I didn't actually yell it. I'm not that mean.) Ethan's reaction? He looked up at me from underneath his helmet and gave me a huge, one-toothed grin. Now, everything I know from my pre-parent parental handbook told me to keep up my strict face and not give that kid the satisfaction he was looking for. But that handbook wasn't looking at my adorable son. That's right. I not only smiled back at Ethan but I couldn't help myself and laughed out loud. Then I gave in, picked him up, and helped him settle down for his nap.
Later, when Ethan was performing his changing table Olympic routine, the one with flips and somersaults and feet in the mouth, I again tried my "NO!" trick. This time, Ethan stopped what he was doing long enough to laugh at me before flipping over once again, naked butt thrust upward at me in defiance. Again, I had to laugh at my own ridiculousness.
If it's bad now, I just can't wait to see myself a few months down the road, when Ethan can say a few words and melt my heart with a smile + silly phrases like my nephew's robotic favorite, "Sorry. Mommy."
Yeah...I'm doomed.

P.S. I gave the blog a facelift with a new color scheme/template. Hope you like it.