When I picked up 3B from day care today, Ms. K was telling me all about how good he is for her. Apparently, at day care, if she tells him to stay on his changing pad while she needs to grab some more wipes or butt paste, he actually stays on his changing pad. He also stops what he’s doing when she asks, goes in the general direction she wants him to, and understands when she says that Mama and Dada will be here later.
Clearly, Ms. K is the professional, since we can’t get even an approximation of that kind of behavior here at home. In fact, one of 3B’s current favorite games, which I’m sure is a training exercise for being two, is what I call “Yes! No!” To begin play, 3B says, “No.” about something, to which I reply, “Can you say yes?” He parries with “No.”
“Can you say yes? Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“No! No! No!”
“You can’t say yes?”
“So you can say yes?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“No. No. No. No. No.”
I amuse myself, if nobody else.
I’m guessing, however, that these aren’t the games that Ms. K plays with 3B to get the kind of behavior she describes to us. My game results in 3B tearing apart his Halloween sticky window toys while muttering “No. No. No.” to himself, and then becoming dismayed upon discovering that someone tore the arm off of his favorite black star, as he is in the picture above. This is the difference between a professional, like Ms. K, and an amateur, like me–she has the ability to impart the skills that he needs to succeed in the world; I can teach him to be a contrary cuss.
Isn’t it amazing that we not only allow, but also encourage rank amateurs to have and raise babies? And that we don’t have 3B at Ms. K’s 24/7?
(15 Bradstein points to anyone who can name the movie that the title of this post refers to. Bonus points for not having to use Google–and being honest about that.)