I Blame My Wife...

I have to say that I blame my wife for all of the ridiculous things Rory has been doing lately.  Sure, the naysayers will tell me that he is just a toddler that acts as if he receives two IV's full of sugar every few hours.  My own mother fears that he may be hyperactive, but then again she deliberately snuck him Trix cereal with all of their bright colored dyes when she knows we feed him all organic.  I digress I am getting slightly off task here. Bottom line.  I promise you that my wife is teaching him bad behaviors.  It's just simple.  I blame her.  You will too.

Ever since Rory was a little tyke, our morning routine was the same.  I would wake him up.  He'd give me a big hug and lay his little curl-head on my shoulder.  Then I'd give him his bottle/cup of milk and he'd seize the day in style.  Now, ever since Spring Break when Mama took the morning shift Rory can't leave his crib without bringing, Winnie the Pooh, Mickey, Minnie, Animal and every blanket he can fit into his arms.  Most times he'll try to grab the binkie too.  If you try and take him to the kitchen to get his milk without the prescribed stuffed animal collection, fits will ensue.  These are only satisfied when you put him down, and he runs back to get whatever item he feels you should have grabbed in the first place. Everyone give my wife a hand.



In another effort to give our child more independence, Kim tasks Rory with throwing away pieces of garbage, including his organic milk cartons.  It's great in a sense, because now he knows the difference between throwing away things that are actually garbage and Kim's measuring cup collection can breathe a sigh of relief.  On the not so happy side, he now wants to throw away his milk carton at every single filling, whether its empty or not.  If you don't hand the carton to him, he will throw a big ole fit, although it is quite humorous trying to watch him lug the heavy carton across the kitchen.  When it's full we have to let him put the carton back in the fridge which involves us needing to pick up the chunky monkey.

After the carton is safely back to where it needs to be, Rory will drink his milk and then throw his cup into the sink.  I mean, this is slightly better than when he used to just launch it across the room after he was finished.  I guess that was one nice thing she taught him.  She's also reminding me that she taught Rory how to put his binkie into a pouch, how to put his shoes in his dresser after we free his feet from their confinement, and how to put Bella in her Pet Resort.  (And also climb in there with her)

I have to say after thinking on all of the awesome things Rory's doing now, the minor stubborn moments are pretty much worth it.  Watching him open and close the garage door every day and still be excited about it is amazing.  Seeing his face light up when he fills Bella's dog bowl is heartwarming.  Everything is so exciting for him and I should be excited he loves his routines and jobs.   Everyone loves a great work ethic!

I complain, because it's human nature.  But honestly, I couldn't be happier.  Oh, and if you're wondering.  Yes.  I still blame my wife.