Naughty or Nice

It is amazing to me that one toddler can be so sweet and yet so naughty. Evan is definitely testing his boundaries right now, and today was no exception. The day started in its usual fashion, which includes a battle about putting clothes on, a battle about our shoes, and of course, a battle about getting in the car. But this is normal, and I am so far un-fazed.

We drive over to visit the preschool that Evan will be attending one day a week starting in January. Evan is cheerful in the car, and very hopeful that there will be "Thomas" trains at his new school, even though I try to break it to him gently that there most likely won't be. "Well, let's just check, Mommy. Let's just check." Ever the optimist.

It is pouring rain, so I lug Wes in his carseat, even though he is getting heavy, so that he is warm and bundled, and Evan actually holds my hand and besides a minor meltdown when we have to leave the classroom, is well-behaved the whole trip. It is now 10am, we are all dressed, and in the car, and since this is a rare occasion, I decide that we should go do something with our time. I suggest the museum or the rec center, and am quickly shot down by Evan, who instead requests "Let's just go Barnes and Noble and play with Thomas, mommy."

We drive to the closest B&N, and I do the usual acrobatics that is getting two kids in to the building in the rain. Evan is still being well-behaved, and I am thinking that maybe today is going to be my lucky day. We play for about an hour, and then I notice that Wes is in desperate need of a new diaper. I should have just changed him right there on the floor. I am still kicking myself for not, but instead, I decided to go to the bathroom to use the changing table.

After promising Evan we can come back and read a story after, I lug a baby, a toddler, a diaper bag and an armful of coats to the bathroom. We go in to the big stall that has the changing table, and I get Wes all set up. Meanwhile, Evan is flushing the toilet, pulling toilet paper off the roll, hanging on the hand rail and pretty much doing his best to show me that, yes, this indeed is painfully boring for a 2 year old.

I try to distract him by giving him the diaper to throw in the trash, and this works for a moment. Then, as I attempt to get Wes back in the baby carrier and the diapers back in the bag, I look over and to my horror witness my son dip his hands in to the toilet bowl, and then stick his fingers in to his mouth.

I about threw-up. Then I yelled at him to stop. Then I got us out of the bathroom and started rubbing him down with hand-sanitizer. (If only I could put it on his tongue...) Well I was doing this, he was trying to run away. So I told him he needed to stop and stay with me, or we would have to go. He looked at me, and then walked off.

I stand up and go to get him, telling him he didn't listen and now we have to go. Cue limp-noodle tantrum on the floor. Since Wes is in the Beco carrier on my chest, I can't do much more than grab Evan's hand and try to get him to come with me, but he is the master of the drop and drag, as I like to call it, and I begin to feel like I might hurt his wrists.

Meanwhile, he is screaming at the top of his lungs "I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE". His face is bright red, there are tears, and every person we walk by is staring at us. I keep my composure, and remember most of them have probably been there too. They are knowing looks of sympathy, I tell myself as my toddler once again turns himself in to dead weight.

I let go of his hands, and he runs over to the trains. I follow, and try to figure out what I am going to do. I can't back down and stay, but getting him out is a challenge. I remember that the Beco can go on my back too, so I switch Wes over, so he is now backpack style. I wrestle Evan's coat on to him. I put the diaper bag on my shoulder, and then I pick up my 34 pound 2 year old and head to the escalator.

Now I know I am quite the sight- with a baby on my back, and a red-faced screaming toddler madly trashing in my arms. I stay calm. I look all those people in the eye and give them my best "Don't worry- things are under control look". But the truth is I am mortified and I wish the door wasn't so far away.

We get in between the double doors, and I set Evan down. I tell him to take some deep breaths. We talk about why we left. He says he understands. Then he asks to go to the the mac and cheese restaurant for lunch. Since I am a glutten for punishment- we go. He is well behaved the whole time.

At home, he refuses to nap. Bedtime is another battle, and I fight it alone, since Chris is on call. After finally getting him to sleep, I call Chris to tell him about my day. He listens and sympathizes, and then tells me a story he forgot to tell me the night before.

When Chris was putting Evan to bed, he was wearing his wedding ring still (it is usually off by that time of day, I guess), and Evan noticed it. He asked "What this is, Daddy?" Chris explained that it was a special ring that he got the day he and mommy got married, and it showed everyone that he loved mommy so much. Evan looked at him and said, "Oh, Daddy. I love Mommy so much too- please I wear it?"

It is all worth it.