Monday, April 14, 2014

Four Reasons Toddlers Are Like Tiny Drunks

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When you sit and think about it, dealing with a toddler is most certainly like dealing with a tiny drunk person. This thought came to my mind last night as I was picking my screaming son off the floor after I wouldn't let him drink the bubbles straight from the bottle. How inconsiderate of me. I mean, they were non-toxic after all.  So, here’s a few likenesses between a toddler and a drunk.

1. Beer tears? Toddler tears? Same diff, I say. You know how you have one too many cranberry vodkas and all of the sudden you’re reminded of all the wrongs in your life? Then, suddenly you’re spraying your tears and blubbering on the shoulder of whoever happens to have the pleasure of standing next to you? No? Just me. Whatevs. Well, my toddler’s teary tantrums bear a slightly eerie resemblance to the irrational episodes of emotional madness I’ve seen at many bars. I cut your banana in chunks instead of slices? How inconsiderate of me, young man. This absolutely calls for you to run your tear ducts dry.

2. Lack of reasoning. Have you ever tried to reason with a drunk? Tried to argue with them? It’s pointless. Any small thing can set them off. You might as well be arguing with my sassy pug, King Wiggles. In one ear, out the other. Once my toddler throws himself into an undeniable tantrum, reasoning with him as to why he should eat his dinner instead of smash it in his hair is moot. Most days, I let him smash his taters into his silky locks and throw him right into the tub post-meal. No shame in that game.

3. Treads on the cusp of danger. When you’ve had too many Miller Lites, sometimes you deem yourself invincible. Things that you would normally never do, seem like the best idea EVER. Like, running around the neighborhood in your underwear. Trying on the dog’s shock collar. Things like that. For a toddler, treading the line between danger and sanity is a daily occurrence. What would it be like to shove a pea up my nose? Jump off this high couch? Touch this hot oven? Eat this bug? Run my head into this wall? You get the idea. I feel like I’m one teensy step ahead of a full-on disaster most days of the week.

4. Physical inability. Then there’s the worst drunk of all. The drunk that goes all flimsy on you. The one that can’t stand up. Can’t sit down. Walking? Nope. A slithery, boneless mass of dead weight that you most certainly need to figure out how to get from Point A (bar) to Point B (home.)  I don’t know about you, but my son goes limp when in full melt-down mode. Like, a slimy wet noodle. Snot, tears, floppy limbs. Trying to pick him up off the floor is virtually impossible, but somehow I make it happen.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my son. When he’s happy, he’s the best. Full of life and love. I could listen to him make kitty cat noises and call for Elmo all day long. But these tantrums? I could do without. However it’s just a phase. This too shall pass. In the meantime, when you hear a tiny child screaming amidst the aisles of your local Target or you’ve agreed to play DD to a gaggle of drunks, think of me.

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