Brushing Teeth

I snuck the toothbrush Isabella’s mouth, just long enough for the bristles to barely touch two of her little teeth before she arched her back again and yanked the toothbrush out of my hand and threw it across the bathroom. Brushing a stubborn 18 month old’s teeth has never been my idea of fun. I always wondered if it really did any good anyway because they can’t even have toothpaste until they are at least two. But, being the paranoid mother that I am, I sat Isabella on the bathroom counter every night and went through the same fight. Most of the time she won and I would finally give an exhausted sigh, sneak one more little brush in, and put the toothbrush back into its holder until the next night.

Isabella eventually got used to the idea and by the time she was two, she was ecstatic about the idea that she could now use real toothpaste to brush her teeth. It’s incredible how much thrill can come from something as simple as using toothpaste for the first time. The night of her birthday arrived and I applied a small amount of toothpaste to her toothbrush. I brushed for a moment then gave her a chance to spit. She leaned over the sink, swallowed, then made a sound like she had heard Cody making every time we brush his teeth. I tried to explain to her that she couldn’t swallow, she had to let all the spit go into the sink. “Ok mommy, I will.” She promised as I began to brush again. When we were finished I helped her over the sink, she swallowed, then made the same sound.

Throughout the next week, Isabella and I had “spitting practices”. I gave her a sip of water and then helped her let it go out of her mouth before she actually swallowed it. I showed her how I did it, I had Cody show her how he did it, we talked about spitting technique, and everything else I could possibly think of. Nothing seemed to work. I never had to do any of this with Cody. The first time we brushed his teeth, he spit out the excess toothpaste and that was that.

After several days I finally realized the problem.  I was the wrong person to teach her! I was a terrible spitter and a girl. I didn’t ever spit unless I absolutely had to. I decided the best course of action would be to turn the spitting lessons over to a much more experience and qualified teacher. That night, Kasey sat her on the counter and helped her brush her teeth. After a few moments, I heard from the other room Kasey and Cody cheering over Isabella’s first spitting success. 

Imagination

There’s something about a little boy’s mind that allows him to be anything in the world that he could ever want to be. My 3 year old was one of the most imaginative little people I have ever met. He would be “Cody” so infrequently that he had to announce when he was being himself. His favorite thing to be was a tiger. He would walk around on all fours roaring every few seconds. He also enjoyed being a cougar, lion, wolf, or dragon. The problem with this variety of animal is that they all made similar sounds, (at least in Cody’s mind,) and he would expect me to know at any given second which animal he was. If I didn’t guess right he would get very frustrated and “attack” me with his razor sharp claws and fierce growls. In the morning, I always knew Cody was awake because I would hear howling at the top of the stairs.  

Every once in a while, Cody would be a kitty or a dog, Kung Fu Panda, or a knight in shining armor. I preferred those species because they were easier to distinguish and much less ferocious. Most of the time he pretended to be a “mean animal” but sometimes he would let me know that, “he was a nice tiger now.” And instead of roaring, he would growl quietly and snuggle in between my legs while I was trying to walk.

Isabella loved Cody so much that she always wanted to do exactly what he was doing. So more often than not, I had two tigers, two lions, or two wolfs. After a few months of this, though, she got tired of being fierce so she would often be the baby animal and would want loves and snuggles, while Cody only wanted me to “run for my life” screaming every second of every day.

Many times in his battles with dragons as a brave knight Cody would suddenly fall over and die. It seemed like Cody always chose the most inopportune times to die. It always happened when we were trying to get ready to go somewhere, or when dinner was getting cold on the table. Nothing we did could ever convince Cody that he wasn’t dead anymore. We would try tickling him, pinching him, picking him up to make him stand on his own, etc. etc. A magic kiss woke him up on occasion, but most of the time we just had to wait 10 or 20 minutes until he was sick of being dead. He would then groggily stand up and grab his sword and shield to resume the fight. Isabella got so used to him dying that she would notice him on the floor, and calmly shout, “Mom! Cody’s dead.” Most of the time she would try to kiss him a few times to see if that would wake him, but after a few unsuccessful attempts, she would keep right on walking or resume playing with her dollies.

I loved everything about Cody’s imagination, but there were times that I got sick of talking to a tiger and we made a rule that he at least had to come give me a hug and kiss in the morning before he started growling at me, even if it was a “tiger kiss” or a “cougar hug”.

The Blue Sippy

For a long time Cody had a certain sippy cup that he preferred over all the others… even though the sippy cups were all exactly the same except for color. He always wanted a blue cup with the matching blue lid. Sometimes it was important enough to him that he would throw a major tantrum over it. We would always tell him that he was being so silly and that it doesn’t matter what color the cup was, they are all the same and it wouldn’t make his drink taste any different if his cup was green!

One day after a big brawl over this exact issue I realized that I was that way about a LOT of things! For instance, I never like to wear some shades of brown, but I love to wear other shades. I would never buy a pink lamp shade, even though pink is my favorite color. We got bright yellow towels for our wedding and we refuse to put them in our bathroom. So, I had to ask myself, why do we get so upset when Cody demands a certain color of cup? The truth is, I even prefer certain cups depending on what beverage I am drinking. I despise drinking milk out of a plastic cup, I only like juice out of a smaller skinnier glasses, and I like water for dinner in a big clear glass with no ice, but at night with my snack I would rather have it in a large plastic cup with lots of ice.

Adults so often scoff at the silly whims of children, but the truth is, we all have things that we prefer. As adults we don’t have to announce them and beg for them, we just do it and feel satisfied. But children don’t have that luxury. Once I came to this realization, I tried to give Cody his blue cup whenever I possibly could. Maybe if I had a blue sippy that would be the only thing I would drink out of too.