A couple weeks ago, Elias turned 18 months old. In a related story, he's developed a sudden love for backhoes.
I think of all the stages of human development, the toddler is the cutest. Of all toddlers in the history of mankind, Elias is the very cutest ever. (Oddly enough Isaac held this title also.) Marching around on his stumpy legs, signing important information with his dimpled plump fingers, maintaining a near-constant smile and a steady flow of "Swee'Pea"-esque patter, he is the quintessential toddler. (Some of the things he has signed: "This is too hot, you need to blow it more."; "I'm sleepy and I need to nurse."; "I love airplanes!") His cuteness blends the Kewpie-doll he was as a baby with the "Been Farming Long" big boys. In fact, the other day he was wearing little striped bib overalls like those and little red shoes, and I felt that now his toddler cuteness had reached its apogee. In my pre-children fantasies, my ideal imaginary child was a toddler just like him.
But.
In my pre-child fantasies I never had to face the flip-side of having a toddler in one's life: the mischief. Is there any stage more exhausting than the toddler? I guess infants are incredibly exhausting too, you could make a solid case for that, but at least they sit still. If you plop them in a baby seat, they just sit there and play with a rattle. I could say that at least toddlers sleep through the night, but that would be non-teething toddlers. It seems to me that Elias has been teething for about 8 months straight. He has a lot of teeth to show for it, and he rarely sleeps more than two hours in a row. This is a source of the "mommy brain" people talk about. Two plus two? Huh? Ask me later.
But the real trouble with toddlers is their endless inquisitiveness about the world around them. This is their job, I know. But Elias's ability to climb up on the counter/the middle of the dining room table/ the stairs/ the dresser/ etc. makes it hard to keep him out of trouble. He has nothing but vertical and horizontal mobility (he can run!), but not much in the way of sense. And certainly no interest in the fact that some things in the world could be harmful to him, and other things in the world could be harmed by him. This means that I need to chase him all day long, without ever stopping. The slightest gap in vigilance leads to either a major mess or damage to the child or damage to something in the house. Getting quiet in the other room? Run!! See what he's into now. Simple tasks are endlessly fragmented. Fold a shirt, get him off the counter. Fold another shirt, stop him from putting trucks in the toilet. Fold a pair of pants, run upstairs to find he's unloading the dresser and all the clothes folded yesterday are now unfolded. I should add that if I had a full complement of personal assistants, this would not be such a problem. I would need a chauffeur to take Isaac around; a housekeeping team; a laundress; a chef; a night wet nurse, and so on. But if I had these people, and had nothing else to do save chase Elias and keep him out of mischief, I think, MAYBE I could manage it. Maybe.
Meanwhile, he's been doing R&D on a cookbook, I take it. His working title must be something like "Toddler Treats : Culinary Creations By and For Toddlers." To give a sense of but one genre of mischief, here are some highlights:
Vichyssoise a l'eau du chien
Immerse pieces of grilled cheese sandwich in the dog water. Stir with a carrot until fully dissolved. Serve chilled.
Das Boot
Place your winter boot on the table. Insert spoon. Scoop out lint and what-have-you. Attempt to eat it.
Trail Mix al Rustico
Combine partially eaten Gerber's wagon wheels, regurgitated grapes and dry dog food. Toss lightly in dog dish. Serves one– or more if stranded in the arctic following a plane crash.
Bobbing for bacteria
Dip your apple in the toilet water. Lick wet apple. Smack lips. Rush into the other room to proudly show Mama your new invention. Don't be surprised when she throws your apple away and swabs you down top to toe with Purell. (NB: to makers of Purell: why not a mouthwash?)
Coins
If you find a coin anywhere, pop it in your mouth and savor it. It won't be long till someone stops you.
Cheerios de la Central Park Zoo Sidewalk
Find Cheerios partially crushed on the sidewalk of the Central Park Zoo in New York City. Pack them in your pie hole before anyone notices.
Sel Aux Petits Pieds
Dump a pound or so of Kosher salt on the kitchen floor. Walk in it, leaving tiny footprints. Sit down and lick your feet. (Raisin Bran variation: begin as above, only add a full box of Raisin Bran to the salt on the floor. Wallow in it, getting flakes stuck to your feet and knees as you attempt to eat the raisins.)
A final note: Isaac has been working on a few things himself. Here's one: "Duck, Duck, Fart"– a game by and for five-year-old boys. (With apologies to the creators of Duck, Duck, Goose.)