17 months!

Right now, you are in the basement throwing a colossal fit. You have been for the past 5 minutes. I figure that you'll probably be down there for another 5 minutes or so, so I've got time for your 17 month stats.

You are the king of colossal temper tantrums. I'm not sure exactly when, or how, that happened, as I pride myself (and Eric) in being one-time parents. You throw your food on the floor, it's a time-out. You don't want to do something we need to do (because, let's face it, it's not about what we want to do anymore), we won't put up with it. Maybe this is the terrible two's that we have heard so much about?

(I just checked on you, you're lying at the foot of the stairs, on your back, arms and legs spread, crying. You're fine.)

You had a double ear infection earlier this week, which was hell on your dad and I. I finally took you to the doctor on Wednesday and you weighed 29 pounds and were 32" tall! Long and lean, holy smokes.

Everything with four legs is a "dog" and whenever we announce it's "BATH TIME!" you happily run after us, up the stairs, saying "bath! bath! bath!" Although it sounds more like "bat! bat! bat!" If there's one thing you absolutely love, it's baths.

(Just checked again, you're standing at the foot of the stairs, head on the second tread, still crying. I tried to coax you upstairs, but you ran away and out of sight. Not sure why I'm the bad guy here...)

You are starting to get very picky about your food. You don't like eating things two nights in a row, and it seems as though your palate is getting smaller. But good lord you LOVE french fries. It must have been all the salty foods I ingested when I was pregnant with you.

(You've  made your way up the stairs, but you're still crying. You're relentless.)

Outside is the place to be, which terrifies me to think what will happen when the cold weather hits and you can no longer play outside. You love pushing your wagon, rather than riding in it, and you're very particular about where it needs to go. You are very good at sticking to the sidewalks, which I think I can attribute to daycare (thanks Christy)! But you aren't so good at riding in the wagon. It's an anomaly, but I just go with it.

(You have finally made it to me, stopped crying, and want to type on the keyboard. So, because I love you, I'm going to let you. The last time you touched daddy's computer, you turned the screen 90 degrees adn we had a heck of a time getting it back, but hopefully this time, it won't be so bad... below will be your scribblings.)

You are growing so quickly - out of the 12 month, into the 18 month, and for some of the clothes, out of the 18 month and into the 2T. I bought you a little Columbia fleece, size 2T and it fits you perfect! Which worries me because I want it to fit you next spring! But your dad already ripped the tags off and it's got a nice sprinkling of applesauce (as does the interior of my car) on it, so I guess taking it back is out of the question.

You're starting to really understand the world around you and how things work. Like when I leave you in the basement to throw your temper tantrum, I really am not going to come and get you. You have to make your way upstairs because I am not going to raise a whiner or a fit-thrower. I have seen too many people too many times put up with it, and I will not.

So with your whining, that is happening right now, I'm going to put you to bed, as I think you're tired, run-down from the cold you've developed and getting rid of your ear infection, and quite frankly, I'm exhausted as well. I love you little man, and thank you for making me realize I have a wealth of patience!


My Temper Tantrum, by James Thomas Engels.
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