My little man is growing up way too fast. And maybe a little too furious. A few moments from today...
It is hard for me to admit, but I have officially gone from "Mommy" to "Mom." Today, though, I hit an all new low; I got my first "MoooOOoOoOm." Reed and I were playing with matchbox cars, and I was accosted with: "MOooOoom... You taked my cars out of line." Sad times.
This morning, a couple of Reed's buddies came over and Reed was in a less than sharing mood. I caught him grabbing hold of Mason with one hand on a shoulder and one on his neck(?!) I didn't want to put ideas in his head, but also wanted to make sure my child wasn't the next Scranton strangler, so as I marched him into the hallway I asked him what he was doing to his friend. "I was pushing." I calmly said, "That is not kind. We do not use our hands to hurt people." A few minutes and one coveted toy later, Reed (with his arms pressed against his sides), went belly bumping at his victim. I realized my mistake before the words (serious and innocent) left his lips: "I not using my hands, Mom."
This evening, Reed randomly hit at me. None of our discipline techniques seem to phase Reed too much of late. After a time out and a talking to, Matt sent him my way to issue an apology. I decided to squeeze in an appeal to his emotional understanding. It went something like this:
Reed: I'm sorry, Mom, for hitting you.
Mommy: I forgive you Reed. It makes me very sad when you hit. I love you very much.
Reed: Furrows his brow in distress, and as I stare at his pained expression, I'm sure I have gotten through to him. I'm concerned that he might even be on the verge of a quivering lip... That is, until he puts his hands on his hips and asks me, "Where are your tears?!"