Mark is terrified of “ganashes”. What are “ganashes”? Well, I’m glad you asked, because I don’t have a clue.
Browsing: Toddler Mark
Since the weather is nice now, Mark and I spend a lot of time outside. I still avoid the playground as much as I can but I take him downtown, to museums, in shops, or just for walks around the neighborhood. Unfortunately, we aren’t the only ones out: the toddler police is patrolling in Ottawa…
This pretty much sums up my relationship with Mark. Like two characters of a telenovela, we hug, play, have tantrums, throw things and hug again—well, he is mostly the one throwing tantrums and objects…
When we go out, he points at everything. “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is a plane.” “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is a bird.” “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is a truck.” “MMM!” “Yes, Mark, this is… I have no clue, actually, no idea what you saw.”
“Did that just happen?” I asked Feng. He shrugged. He is more patient than me with strangers’ unwanted advice, because unlike me, he is not familiar with the “toddler police”.
Once upon a time, i.e. last year, I used to love taking Mark to the…
I shouldn’t shop with Mark. Not that he isn’t behaving. Well, sometime he isn’t, but most of the time he is happy to follow me around. No, it’s just that visiting stores out of boredom isn’t good for my wallet—every time, I end up spending money on things I wouldn’t normally buy.
It’s funny how sometime you say one thing while thinking another. Like when Feng announced that his parents had invited us to RandomDistantRelative’s fiftieth’s birthday party. “Why would I want to spend Saturday evening with your parents and people I barely know?” I thought. But somehow, I heard myself replying “yeah, sure.”
Stating that screaming at your kid is not a good parenting technique is a bit like stating that calling your boss an asshole will get you into troubles and that your spouse may not appreciate if you sleeping with another person. Yet, these things happen. Cause you know what? We are humans.
Every month, I read one of these “your kid’s big milestones this month” article online. And every month, I’m split between “oh… they all do that? Toddler dragon isn’t a special and unique snowflake?” and “phew, so they ALL do that!”
“Stranger danger!”: this pretty much sums up my interactions with people these days. Canadians are…
I used to have a decent vocabulary in French, English, Mandarin and Spanish. I used to argue about politics, the economy or the state of the world. These days, I could survive with ten sentences.
A few months ago, while vacuuming Mark’s room, I tossed the toys, artistically scattered everywhere à la modern art, into one of these big empty Pampers diaper boxes. It was just a practical way to clean the carpet properly. The carton box wouldn’t last long with Mark, I thought.
Mark is officially 18 months today. We (I mean, he) reached the year-and-a-half milestone! Oh, it’s not like he is fixing his own meals and spending his time playing alone quietly, and some days are still awful, but he is more independent.
Mark inherited my love of walking, a weird fondness for broccoli and an addiction to cameras. He also has my hair—it’s soft, fairly light and very thick. I On the plus side, he had never needed a hat in winter to keep warm. On the downside, he needs to have his hair cut often.
The first few months, babies are a bit like Tamagotchi. Remember the craze for these made-in-Japan digital pocket toys in the 1990s? You had to care your “pet”—really, a basic pixelated rendering of a pet—and feed it, change it, play with it, answer its calls for attention, etc.
“Don’t you wish you were him? Whenever he is hungry…”
“… food magically appears in front of him,” I complete. “And here is always a snack for him in my bag. It’s like I’m growing cereal bars and fruit puree pouches in there.”
The hard part is interacting with other people. Mark, like any other kid, is curious and open minded. He has no concept of taboos, political correctness or politeness.
I do encourage Mark to clean up after playtime and he is enjoying putting his toys away in the big empty diaper box. He also likes to sort out the clean laundry with me. Well, he does it his way…
I skipped the 15-month update because we were in Mexico and the 16-month update because I was in Nicaragua. And now it’s March… and “baby” Mark is 17 months old.
I follow the immunization schedule (the anti-vaccination movement sounds like a bunch a nutcases to me) but going to the doctor is always a chore. It’s hard to find parking, for a start. Mark doesn’t like getting dressed and undressed and he fusses a lot. Plus, I hate being in a room full of sick people. Above all, I’m not a huge fan of my doctor. She tends to be very patronizing.
Feng was waiting for me at the Ottawa Airport. It took all my self-control not to run to him—I think I did run, actually. We hugged. I suddenly realized how much I had missed him. There is no better feeling than spotting a loved one waiting for you at Arrivals.
I told him about Santa Claus (and his French brother, le Père noël). The first time we went to the mall after that and that we bumped into a Santa Claus, he froze. For a second, I though “wow, that kid is bright, he understood everything I told him!” And then Mark moved toward the metal poles around Santa Claus and proceeded to hug them for a good ten minutes. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: I have the only kid fascinated by metal poles!
If I have to look at him throw shoes down the stairs (he is apparently at the “wow, gravity is fun!” stage) I am going to lose my mind. That’s it. Now I am definitely feeling guilty for even writing this. I should love my son’s company and I should cherish and treasure every second I spend with him… shouldn’t I?