A two-year old's guide to Fit Throwing

** This little guy turns six this week! We made it through the twos, and threes, and so on... it's mostly a blur, and I have no real advice to mothers of 2yr olds other than yes, they know your weaknesses!  (Reposted from April 2011)

We poor toddlers have so much going against us.  We are surrounded by beings much larger than us, and the largest of the beings, the "mother," seems to have been created solely to thwart our fun-having and world-exploring efforts at every turn.  We would utterly despair, and perhaps shall, if all of our weaponry against them proves ineffective.  As for me, in all of my two years, I have found no success with weapons weilded by my siblings.  I have little success with the Winning Smile; the Reasoned Argument is yet out of my reach; the Sibling Blame is only possible for those who have walked on this earth for even longer than I, and taken ample time to store up the vocabulary and body language to decieve the mother.

As for me, I have grown in wisdom and knowledge, and have wisely reduced my arsenal against the large beings to one category: the fit.

The Fit has many uses and can be displayed in various forms.


The wilted flower
Slowly sink to your knees, hang your head and shoulders, and maintain grief-filled silence.  Refuse eye contact.  If a Large Person attempts to cajole you into talking or tempts you to smile, summon the powers of your imagination.  Envision a torn blankie left in a mud puddle, or stepped-on cookie, or anything else that causes your heart to ache with deep and indescribable pain, and continue to wilt.

The skull cracking scream:  When injured or wronged, you may find this scream comes naturally to you.  My only advice to my peers who use this weapon: Make sure you are not in arm's reach of the mother.

The toothy attack

A tool best used on siblings when the Large People are not looking.  Your stature may be small, but an attack with your entire body is often effective.  Run towards your enemy, and grab him.  A proper grab utilizes the muscles of the arms, legs, and jaw.

The leaky faucet
Best used on tired Large People.  At random intervals throughout the day, emit unhappy noises. Screams, whines, fusses, and gibberish complaints are all acceptable.  You do not need a reason for such noises, your job is to simply make them frequent and relentlessly.  If you are feeling creative, you may want to add some bangs, crashes, and "injuries" just to mix it up a bit.  If successful, the mother may give you a blankie and set you in front of your favorite movie while she hides in another room. But beware: if you push her too quickly, you may just end up with an extra nap.

The despairing soul

When you find yourself frustrated, and unable to solve your problem with screaming, try this technique.  First, make your desires known in the best and loudest manner possible.  If the mother, chair, stool, or toy refuses to obey your clear direction, fall dramatically to your knees.  (See wilting flower above.)  After a moment's wilt, make plain the utter despair welling in your heart by sinking to the floor.  From your knees, crash forward to your belly, splaying arms and legs out wide to show the depth and width and height of your despair.  Roll from your stomach to your back, ensuring you still have an audience.  If you hear laughter or any other unhelpful noise (like advice on your problem,) simply roll back to your stomach and display the utter sadness and hopelessness of a splattered bug.

Daily I build my arsenal, daily I practice my techniques.  I do not give up, because I see the Large People around me are imperfect, vulnerable to attack, and prone to their own version of fit-throwing.  Though I cannot yet claim victory, I sense that the mother is weary.  My triumphant reign may be right around the corner.  I shall press on.

The perfect dose

Afternoon sun, children playing, but my Little Man is grumpy.

He climbs up, snot-covered, begging for a place on my lap. I wrap him in my arms and my jacket.

He rests, a content comfort-taker, in my arms.

He is wrapped in the warmth of mom and God.

We hide together from the cool breeze.  The perfect dose of sunshine rests on us, and we see no reason to move.  My wedding ring reflects rainbows, but I think of this boy, and his forever-life, made to last longer even than the diamond I wear.  I hold this life in its small beginnings, this little, eternal life.  

A gust of wind reaches his bare legs, and he complains.  I fix his small problem, gladly, and he rests again.

On my lap and in my care I feel the light weight of a little boy. But what is the weight of his life, his eternal soul?  I cannot comprehend the gravity of this moment, this vocation. I fear it would crush me if I could.

Yet at this moment, his heaviness does not oppress.

My son and my God have surrounded me with gentle, forever-warmth.

I receive the sun in its perfect dose, and I am also a comfort-taker.

Escape of the Little People: Activity for Active Toddlers

Little people.

When my girls were younger, this assortment of characters would entertain them for hours. People had pets, played school, had families, ate meals together, and had all manner of meaningful relationships.

My boys see these wonderful toys and what do they think?

Bo-ring.

(Or, fun for throwing at each other or feeding to the dog, but that’s about it.)

It’s not about relationships for them. My boys want adventure. They want to explore, to fight bad guys, and to be heroes. 

And this is a good thing, really. I just read Wild at Heart, and I am inspired to encourage my little man-cubs in their masculinity. (I did not agree with everything in this book, but I think you should read it. If you’d like, read my review here.)

Perhaps, I thought, we can use these same toys in a new way. I schemed and plotted.

. . . .

That evening, we noticed the Queen from the Land of Little People on our porch. “Odd,” I said. “This queen never comes outside. I wonder what she is doing here?”

We stopped to visit her.

“The queen is crying!” I said, horrified. “What, you don’t hear her? I guess only I can hear her voice. Would you like me to ask her what’s wrong?”

I acted very serious as I had a one-sided conversation with the toy queen.

She and her husband had been happily overseeing their kingdom in our basement, the Land of Little People. The Little People had thrived in this land for as long as she could remember, and oh how sweet their days of schooling and farming had been. Lately, the citizens had grown more and more restless. Rumors circulated, The people had heard of a new and better land, somewhere by a great body of water. Last night, the citizens and their animals had run away in search of this new land.

“They don’t understand!” sobbed the queen. “The land they sought was indeed beautiful, but it was also the home of evil coyotes that liked to snack on Little People!”

What could we do? The queen begged our help.

My boys rose to the challenge. First, they visited their arsenal, and carefully chose a weapon for the occasion. A sword for one, a light saber for another, a crossbow for a third. One boy saw nothing that appealed to him, but he bravely stuck out his chest and declared, “If I see a coyote, I will just use my FISTS.”

We traveled to the faraway land (the pond across the road.)

The littlest man-cub, mostly just swung his sword at leaves. 

I'm sure his masculine display of strength scared away some of those coyotes.

The princess, hiding from danger in her tree.

We saved her before she fell in the water.

This man-cub heard the queen's grateful cheers.

The king had climbed a tree to get a better view of the scattered citizens. 

He was relieved when we told him we'd gathered most of them.

The boys LOVED this activity. We have done it four more times since this day.  

If you have little man-cubs with nothing to do, why not give this a try?

Have you been on any adventures with your little people lately? I'd love to hear from you!

My Sanity-Keeping Secrets: Toddlers

I put on my tennis shoes first thing in the morning, and I feel like I run ALL DAY LONG. I run and I clean and I run and I talk and I break up fight and I answer questions and I run and I TALK and they talk at me, and at the end of the day I am WORN OUT.

How can a person work so hard all day long and yet nothing seems to ever get DONE?

The answer is not really all that complicated:

Impossible Mother Job: Being the FAIR Queen

They want things to be fair, and I understand that.

But it is so hard for me to keep track of who did what last, and whose turn it is for this or that.

It would be nice if I had one of these:

(photo credit)

Except, it would have to be more complicated.

Something like this:

(Yes, I do have six children. But the chart was overwhelming enough with three.)

But I don't have a big complicated chart of switchboard.
And my brain is not capable of this kind of record-keeping.

Until someone invents something like that, I guess I'll have to keep with my current strategy.

Parents, have you found something for this problem?

Is there a middle road,

somewhere in between the huge, complicated Fairness Tracker

and random arbitrary rulings?

I'd love to hear from you!