I don't know what happened. Neither do his parents. No one is accepting responsibility for this Mr. Personality meet Mr. Attitude individual who calls himself my grandson, Mason.
His mama claims she put him to bed the evening he turned 18 months old, a charming, obedient, eager to please toddler. He woke up the next day, with a few things on his mind, that he apparently had been trying to get out for a while now. The year and half age must have been the key that turned the lock. He woke up, as usual. It didn't take him long, Amy tells me, to enter into the new world of Independence. "NO. STOP IT. MINE. STOP, STOP."
"Mason, time to eat," as I put him in his chair and set the food in front of him. He just stares at it. You would think I was offering him a plate of snails, for goodness sake. "Here, Mason. Grandma made you oatmeal and a banana. The banana went to the floor very quickly. "No." he yells. Hmm. Well, OK, let's try this one: Mason, here is your other half of the banana. "NO," he yells as he flings it.
He is busy jabbering, apparently not pleased with his breakfast, is all I can think of? Maybe I should help him a bit. These kids need coaxing sometimes, right? Not. I pick up his spoon. "STOP IT." he yells at me. OK. I put the spoon down. He picks it up. He looks at me and it too, hits the floor. OK.
Let's try another around of banana. Now, Aunt Jana (na na) is home for the weekend. This is HER weekend with the baby. So, technically she was in charge, however, she also was told to STOP IT an awful lot that day. To continue..."Mama, Mason is smashing that banana into his ear." "WHAT?" I look over and the kids has a huge, I mean so huge that it covered his entire outer ear, chunk of banana that he has ground INTO his ear, and it guarding its removal by placing his hand over his ear. As I fish it out, Mason is yelling "NO, STOP IT" while Jana, who is suppose to be in charge, is laughing her butt off.
In the meantime, oatmeal is being flung about. What oatmeal did enter his mouth, apparently never made its way down his throat. No, he looks at me and slowly lets the oatmeal ooze out the side of his mouth, down his chin, and onto his tray, all while he looks at me and gives me that "I know you think I am cute, grandma," look. Then he grins, that little mouth showing his pearly white teeth. Damn it. I wasn't going to. I was determined in my most experienced, been there, done that life, that I wouldn't. Damn it. I did it. I laughed. I couldn't help it! There is just something about that grin, with those little, razor sharp pearlies gleaming, looking at me in pure delight with those beautiful eyes. I am sucker. A sucker for that grin. A sucker for those big eyes, just like his mama's eyes when she was that age. Oh, God help me when he is older and ask for toys at the store.
He wants to do everything by himself now. Or he decides he doesn't want to do it. Let's change your diaper. "NO." He runs off. Mason, time for a ba ba. "No." He runs off. Mason, let's take a bath. "No." "Play with me?" I ask, as I pick up some of his toys to help him. "STOP." he tells me. He is entering his own world of learning to entertain himself, trying to figure out how to make his toys do what HE wants them to do.
He climbs, he runs, he chases, he plays, he jabbers. He has no fear. What kid likes to go to time out? He does. He decides to put himself in there, because it must be cool in his mind to sit on the floor for 30 seconds or so with nothing to do. Amy said he just sits there like a good little boy, beaming at what a wonderful thing this is. His I can do it attitude is wonderful, and wonderfully funny at the same time.
Ok. I admit it. I had a blast. I think it is rather funny all this independence. The no's, stop and stop it that he has been known to mention a time or two. I loved just sitting back and watching how he interacts with his world on his terms. They need to do this. A necessary stage in their development. Trying to assert some control of their lives. I know these stages developmentally. But, this is funny! Really, really funny! His mama and daddy are in for the run of their lives with this one. I think I also may have met my match with this kid. Mr. Attitude has arrived and has met Mr. Personality. The two will now be tag teaming the parents and grandparents alike. We are done for. Toast. Totally screwed! It's so hard not to laugh when Mr. Personality meets Mr. Attitude.
It's those teeth. I know it.