Like all misunderstood heroes, toddlers posses mortal enemies. The world is a dangerous place for a little kid. There are sharp objects, high places to fall from, pedophiles, car accidents, disease, and abuse, to name a few. These are the things parents worry about, but are of no concern to a toddler. Instead, the mortal enemies of a toddler are those that inhibit their ability to move about freely and make messes, or that frighten them, like loud things, like the lawn mower, the vacuum cleaner, the cow at the petting zoo, or in Small Boy’s case, the nefarious food processor. Here are a few of his other enemies which he bravely battles on a daily, and sometimes hourly basis.
They stink. When it is time for us to do diaper battle every few hours Small Boy fights heroically by arching his back, kicking his legs, screaming and then thrashing on his changing table. Sometimes he fights the dastardly diaper with his bare hands. Poo flies through the air. Curses fly from my mouth. When it is time for a diaper change he turns into the Incredible Hulk, displaying super strength and absolute rage.
Personal hygiene is like kryptonite to toddlers – it slows them down. We’re not germophobes in this house. The antibacterial soaps and sprays are reserved for occasions when we’ve been sick and need to protect other friends and family from our germs. Small Boy posses a very strong immune system, probably because it got a really early workout when he was 10-days old. However, we do have some standards – hands and faces must be washed and teeth must be brushed. Small Boy compromises on bath time, which is excellent fun, but all other acts of hygiene are verboten.
So restraining! So inhibiting! The cars seat limits movement and opportunities for mischief and must be avoided at all costs through various methods, such as back arching and screaming, pouting, and then kicking the seat in front of him sullenly.
Yes, the odious food processor with its evil spinning blade and loud roar. When I fire up the food processor in the kitchen Small Boy quietly stops whatever he is doing, cautiously walks to me with big, gray, tear-rimmed eyes, and hides behind my leg. He will not even look at the food processor. He won’t even taste the fresh hummus that I make in the food processor until a little time and distance is put between them. The food processor is truly an enemy to be feared.
My parents have a beautiful rooster at their little farm named Herkimer. He is a stunning creature, standing almost 3 feet tall with shining golden feathers and a bright red comb on his head. Even if you hate chickens, Herkimer is a sight to behold…except to Small Boy. Like the food processor, Small Boy won’t look Herkimer in the eye (I assume he thinks that the rooster’s chickeny gaze is like a death ray that will turn him to stone). Every evening Herkimer will rise up on his feet, flap his enormous wings, and crow like an idiot for several hours, which always turns Small Boy into a nervous wreck.