Tiny Kid

The other day Lukas asked Zeben, "are you a baby or a big kid?"

Zeben responded: "No, I not a baby, I not a big kid. I a tiny kid."



I couldn't help but smile at his accurate self-description. Zeben is stuck somewhere in-between baby and big kid right now, and it's not always the most pleasant place for him to be. He has been bit hard by the "do it myself!" bug except for the times when I want him to do something independently, in which case he refuses, saying, "I can't. I too tiny." He demands, "pick you up!" one minute and then, after I've carried him out to the car, he insists that I bring him back to the house so that he can walk himself out to the car instead. He is the definition of fickle.


Luckily for me, he remains incredibly cute and funny, and luckily for him, I've been through this all before. I am able to remain calm in his most ridiculous moments and, having already learned how to talk to a tiny kid, I'm able to avoid many more conflicts than I was with Luke and Jaz at this stage.

The thing to say before walking through a traffic is not "you can either hold my hand, or I'll carry you." Instead I ask, "which of my fingers do you want to hold in the parking lot?" Or, "do you want to ride on my shoulders, my back, or my front?" I make the big decisions, and leave him with the smaller choices.


I try not to force anything. I simply state what needs to happen, "you need to pee before we leave the house." And then, if Zeben resists, I say, "OK. You tell me when you're ready to pee, and then we can leave."

The choice is not whether or not to get dressed, but which of two t-shirts he wants to wear. He is not allowed to wear a shirt as pants, but if he only wants "Mama!" to put his pants on, that's perfectly fine.


I try to choose my battles wisely. If Zeben requests that I bring him back to the house so that he can walk to the car all by himself, I bring him back without hesitation. But I get to be the one to buckle him into his car seat.


I try to cherish his baby moments, the times when he tugs at my legs and cries, "I need you!" and it would be so easy to just feel exasperated. I tell him, "I need you too." We lay around on the couch, nursing on and off all afternoon, and he could be a 6-month-old.


And I try to appreciate his big kid moments just as enthusiastically. He insists on carrying his lunch box and his "guys" and walking all by himself across the expanse of sheer ice that is our driveway. And when he successfully makes it all the way inside the house, I show him where to hang his coat and where to put his boots, and he could be a 5-year-old.


He clears his plate and washes his hands by himself after dinner now, but then still wants me to carry him up to bed and nurse him to sleep.


I think one of the hardest things about this stage with Luke and Jaz, was making the realization that I wasn't always enough for them anymore. The rejection was unexpected and I felt it so deeply. I had thought that we had this special thing going, that I'd always be able to make them happy, that simply being with me would always be a treat. I didn't realize that rejecting me would be a necessary part of the turning-from-baby-to-big-kid process.


This time around, with Zeben, I hardly feel rejected at all, even though he's doing all the same things that his brothers did at his age (maybe even more so since he has them as an influence and has already learned some lovely key phrases like, "I hate you!"). Perhaps it's just that my perspective has changed (I'll take a moody 2-year-old over a moody 4-year-old any day), or maybe it's the fact that I knew this was coming all along, so it's not such a shock this time.


I feel no rush for Zeben to become the independent big kid he'll one day soon be, nor do I feel like I'm clinging to the last strands of his babyhood. I'm simply enjoying this tiny, fickle, loving, stubborn, funny kid and taking each day as it comes.

I love you, Zeben.