I was going through a selection of “Double Trouble” columns recently and had the sudden feeling that I’d done my boys a disservice.
If you read them, perhaps you’ll get the impression that my 5-year-old and 1-year-old are, well, monsters. Monsters who hate shopping, like to beat each other up and scare the heck out of Mommy with their antics — and who never, ever stop moving.
And, sometimes, you’d be correct.
But they have a sweet side — even a calm one — too, and it’s something we’ve been seeing more and more lately. (From Sam, anyway ... I think Jimmy always had this trait.)
This morning, I snuck back upstairs when the toddler woke and wailed in his crib, hoping to quiet his tears before he woke his big brother too early. His tear-streaked face brightened when I opened the door and he lifted his arms. Awww ...
I took him back into our bedroom and snuggled him down in the covers with me, hoping for a few minutes of peace. I fully expected him to bounce back up as usual, making a bid for freedom by running for the door as fast as his chubby legs could take him.
Instead, I got the snuggler. He borrowed down besides me, reaching up to grab my hands in his and place them on either side of his face.
I spent the next 15 minutes listening to earnest toddler babble, able to make out maybe one word in five, but glad to listen anyway. When I heard his brother stirring, I sat up and held my arms out to him — only to have 20-some pounds of little boy land in my lap, his arms wrapped around my neck.
I have to admit, it makes it a whole lot easier to handle the next time I get the demon child reaction in the grocery store.
I’ve gotten the full-blown welcome wagon reaction when I get home from work lately, too — a squeal of glee and a stampede, followed for a chubby cheek presented for me to kiss.
And I’ve had evenings where Sam just wants to sit on my knee and contentedly watch whatever I’m watching (I figure all that Discovery channel can’t hurt, although I already make certain to point out the “Mythbusters” warning not to try this at home.)
Maybe it doesn’t last much more than 15 minutes, but at least it’s time.
I have to say, it’s a refreshing change from Jim, the bona fide Daddy’s Boy who can still only sometimes be troubled to say, “Hi, Mommy,” when I walk in the door.
Jimmy, though, has always had a sweet side, from his big, wrap-his-arms-around-you-and-squeeze hugs to his enthusiastic “I wuv yous!”
And Jim knows something Sam is just learning — that sometimes it’s good to slow down.
We’ve sat on the couch and read book after book ( “More, Momma, more! Puh-leeeeeze?”). Now, sometimes he “reads” to me, although it’s still more memorization than actual reading at this point.
I get begged regularly for his other favorite thing, “Happy-birthday cupcakes! Momma, puh-leeeeze?” (To Jim, all cupcakes are happy-birthday cupcakes.) He doesn’t necessarily just want to scarf them down ... he wants to spend the time with me in the kitchen, measuring and mixing and stirring.
And he doesn’t care if Mommy can’t carry a tune in a bucket: He wants me to sing. He’ll sit and listen and sing along, beaming from ear to ear.
How can you ever beat that?
They can be monsters, they can be terrors, and sometimes I wish they would just slow down a little bit more. But I wouldn’t trade them — not for the sweetest, calmest children in the world.
Snips, snails, puppy-dog tails and all.
Jill Keppeler is a page designer and columnist for Greater Niagara Newspapers. She can be reached at jill.keppeler@tonawanda-news.com.
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