Oh, it is ON....

This was fun. Ethan had his first temper tantrum today. His first bona fide, kicking, screaming, make everyone in the place look sideways at your mama, for real temper tantrum. What a delight.

I took the little man to IKEA (le sigh...how I love you, IKEA) to check out play table and chair sets for him for Hanukkah because he is constantly trying to climb onto chairs now. When we go to see Mr. Skip at the coffee shop, he spends most of his time running to the back of the shop to the little plastic IKEA table and chair set. I firmly believe one of the cutest sights in the world is watching a little toddler climb into a chair and sit at a table. Go ahead and try to prove me wrong. You can't.

He did fine through all the oooh'ing and ahhh'ing we did over the model rooms they have arranged there on their showroom floor. It's all so lovely and it's tempting to say, "I will buy that whole room, please," until you realize that YOU and your significant other are going to end up putting all that shit together, with wordlless picture instructions and one allen-wrench to share between you. Marriaged have ended over less, people.

But when we got to the childrens' section of the store and I made the colossal error in judgment of letting him out of the cart, it was ON. There was much adorable climbing onto chairs and playing at tables (and I decided which set we are going to get him--mission accomplished). If I had even one tiny brain cell bouncing around in my head, I would have scooped him up right then, put him back in the cart and moseyed back to the car and headed home for naptime.

Apparently though, I am lacking that one bouncing brain cell, and I let him wander. Right to what should be just another toy in the long line of toys he has loved and left. Ethan's not known for being utterly loyal to any one toy. He has no lovey to speak of (unless you count my boobs, but that's for another entry, I'm thinking), and he's still got the attention span of, well, an 18 month old. But this toy---the MULA push toy (if I were even remotely tech savvy, there'd be a picture from the IKEA online catalog right here) became his immediate bff.
It looks like the old fashioned ball-popper push toy, only it's wooden and it has silly little wooden pegs that come out of the base instead of popping around inside it. As you roll the thing, the pegs go in on one side and come out the other. It makes an ungodly amount of noise, which is always a plus, right? Where's my Advil??

He walked with it everywhere; there was much laughing and general "where have you been all my life?" bonding with the MULA. And dear god, when it was time to go, I committed the ultimate crime against humanity, I tried to take it away from him.

In his first act of outward and obvious defiance, he yanked it back from me! Seriously??!! This child was born of the two least confrontational people ever to walk the earth and there he goes, getting all in my face about it??!! The child cannot even say "NO!" yet, but he definitely let me know his thoughts on giving up the MULA. And then he tried to run away with it, crying.

Lesson One of the Temper Tantrum: Fight the urge to laugh at the unbelievable cuteness that is an 18 month old boy trying run away with his first true love, in IKEA. First, it sends a mixed message to the child. Second, people do not like to see a mother laughing at her crying child. They give you pissy looks.

Lesson Two of Temper Tantrum: Be prepared for the three secret weapons of the toddler. Weapon 1: The scream. Oh dear god, I might have Tinnitus. Weapon 2: The "stiff as a board" routine. When I tried to put Ethan back in the cart seat, he went all rigid (while screaming and turning the shiniest shade of red) and refused to bend his legs to be seated. Smart little man. I am sure I looked utterly ridiculous trying to fold my son back into the cart seat. Weapon 3: The "rubber band" routine. The opposite, but equally effective cousin of "stiff as a board", this is when they go all limp as you try to pick them up and they slip right out of your grasp like a fistful of jello pudding.

Poor thing. He wailed most of the way through the rest of the store. And so of course, what did I do?

I bought him the damn MULA push-toy. I am so whipped.

But tonight I am settling down with a glass of wine, Dr. Harvey Karp and Dr. William Sears (well, their books at least) and hopefully they will tell me something, anything, about how to deal with the joy that is toddler defiance. I don't regret buying this particular toy for him; it's something I would have gotten for him anyway, and the look on his face when he saw it after waking up from his nap was priceless. BUT, I'd like to have some tricks up my sleeve (aside from the overwhelming urge to giggle) the next time it happens. And of course there's going to be a next time. Because, my friends, I think the race to the "terrible 2s" is on...