Me: VP, what’s your favourite colour?
Me: What’s your name?
Me: How old are you?
VP: Forty free (Sees my amused face and can’t stomach my happiness, so then…) NNNNNO!
I found myself, much like Dorothy in reverse, crashing from the colourful world of toddler possibility to the black and white toddler world of NO. (Except if we’re talking Wizard of Oz, I think I’d be more the wicked witch crushed under the house than I would Dorothy.) I had just asked these questions and VP had answered accurately… Sort of. Bu, Ban, Free. But I guess I pushed my luck when I asked him to repeat the answers for daddy, finding myself smack dab in the land of NO. If you’ve ever had toddlers you know this magical land in which everything suddenly is, was, and will be forevermore NO. Just NO. But I mean, kid… NO! I’ve got a serious love/hate thing going for the land of NO.
It’s hilarious, it’s classic two-year-old, but it’s frustrating as all hell! I swear a switch just flips in the two-year-old kid’s brain and the world becomes one giant effin’ N-O. One moment you’re strolling down
Happy Lane on the way to Get-Along-With-Mommy-Ville, wheelin’ and dealin’ with Thomas the choo choo and the Tonka trucks, together cutting Barbie’s hair into a very unflattering bob (ugh, Barbie), singing ‘No more monkeys jumping on the bed’ and then that one tiny word, NO, triggers something in his tiny beautiful crazy mind and suddenly Palm Beach Gardens, Florida becomes NOville, GetOuttaMyFace.
It’s like, every time too much fun is being had, he has this massive Oprah-worthy life-shattering aha moment: JC, was mom just having fun with me? She looks too elated. Look at that joyous, stupid smile on her face. I’ve led her on. I’ve taken this too far. The fool. She thinks we’re going to have a peaceful, relaxing morning of playing and laughing like old pals. Better set her straight ASAP before this ‘fun’ gets out of hand and becomes a regular occurrence. Good God, does she think when I’m 18 I’m gonna hold her hand and dance in circles around my choo choo tracks singing ‘No more monkeys jumping on the bed?!’ Better nip this in the bud now before she gets any ideas. “NNNNNNNO!”
And so around and around we go. Me, thinking I’ve got this mom’ing thing on lock. VP forgetting for a while that he’s gotta keep my expectations low, playing with me happily, then finally remembering to manage up, and then there it is. N-O, NO.