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THIS TODDLER HAS
SOME WORK TO DO
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My daughter and son-in-law joined us last weekend for a family
get-together in the mountains. Naturally, they brought along our first
grandchild, a 14-month old girl.
It had been a few weeks since I'd seen my little granddaughter,
and considering her advanced age, I thought maybe things would change. But
when I made a beeline for her and threw out my arms for a welcoming embrace,
it was clear that she still hated me.
"Maybe if you stopped referring to her as a blob she would
be nicer to you," said my wife as our little granddaughter eagerly
accepted her embrace just as eagerly as she rejected mine.
I tell it like it is. Babies are blobs. They eat, they sleep,
they cry, they poop. If you're a parent, every day is a magical experience,
and by no means do I want to minimize the wonder of babyhood. It's just not
quite as magical from a distance.
As expected, though, things were changing. At 12 months, she
had entered the toddler stage, which is defined as the age of 12-36 months.
She was becoming a little human being, and I was finally eager to be even a
bigger part of her little life.
Not a chance. She wasn't about to forget all the insults I had
leveled on her during her infant year. While my wife had showered her with
affection and was now reaping the rewards, I was being punished for calling
her a blob.
"My time will come," I announced as another attempt
to hold her resulted in a lunge for her mother, who was standing nearby to
rescue her. "She's going to love me very soon."
It's just going to take a little work. Not from me, of course,
but from her. She still has some maturing to do.
For example, this self-centered behavior she exhibits day in
and day out is going to have to stop. Now that she can respond to sounds,
understand several words, imitate animal sounds, develop attachments to
certain toys, and maybe wave bye bye, I expect some recognition for all the
attention I'm beginning to lavish on her.
It's not happening. "Maybe if you stopped calling her
self-centered she'd be nicer to you," said my wife as she played on the
floor with her.
"I stopped calling her a blob once she became a
toddler," I replied. "You'd think that would be enough."
I watched her put some blocks into a hole of yet another
apparatus we had bought her in an attempt to win her affection. She clearly
didn't understand, or care, that I wrote half the check.
Bored with the blocks, she stood up and waddled toward me. This
could be it. I put my hands out in another desperate attempt to bring her
lovingly into my arms. She realized where she was heading, tried to turn
around and toppled over, slightly banging her head on a toy piano.
You might think hate is too strong a word, and I'm clearly
exaggerating, but I could sure feel something from her as she wailed
miserably about the mean man who was responsible for her fall. I shuddered
to think of her reaction if I tried to pick her up and console her. My wife
and my daughter took care of that.
14 months. She could walk, turn pages in a book, say
"Mama," hold a bottle by herself, eat Cheerios with her little
fingers---why couldn't the selfish little cretin be a little nicer to her
Grandpa?
"She's developed separation anxiety," explained my
daughter. "Maybe if you had held her more when she was an infant she
wouldn't be so scared of you."
She was probably right, but I simply didn't have a lot of
interest in holding a blob. Now that she was a toddler and cute and
entertaining, I was ready to go. I guess I was just paying the price for my
inattention during her infant years.
I gave it some thought and quickly decided I could wait. I had
Googled "toddlers" and was reminded that from 15-20 months she
will probably use 10-20 words, address others with greetings and mimic
parental activities. Instinctively, I knew what that meant.
"GIMME FIVE!" I enthusiastically cried, putting my
palm out while her tears dried. She looked at my hand and, of course,
snuggled her face into her mother's armpit, ignoring me as usual.
"Two more months," I announced. "She'll be
giving me five, and we'll be on our way."
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