Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Nakee Baby

Some weeks are just weird.

We finished off 2012 with a fun evening of family and food at Joe's parents' house. And to celebrate the new year, we did what most of you did --- an out and out Marshmallow Shooter War!!! (this is where we also found out that marshmallows can hurt! how sad is that!)

Fun was had by all. The dogs loved it. The kiddo loved it. But mostly the crazy, competitive adults loved it.

Sadly, that night we got a call that Joe's parents' dog, Ursa was not doing well and didn't make it till the next morning. She sadly passed away from bloat. An illness that affects big-chested animals and it was quite sudden and shocking. We are very sad to have lost our gruff, sweet girl.

Now...to the nakee baby. Well, you see, Owen has been asserting more of his Terrible Two-ness ever since Christmas (ugh, that was a trial) and he loves to especially do this where clothes are concerned. No, I don't need to get dressed. No, I don't need to change my yucky dirty clothes. No, I don't need a new diaper. You get the idea...

Well, O got to spend the night at Nana's a few days later and I went to pick him up the next day for a fun brunch with Aunt Jenni, Uncle Jamie and our friends the Harkins. This is where it gets dicey friends. I arrive a little late to pick up the kiddo, because of course the car was empty, and who do I see walking down the stairs in saggy wet diaper. AAAHHH!!!

Nana states he has politely refused all clothing all morning long.

This is not going to work.

I try to persuade with "We get to see your friends." Nope. "We get to get food." Nope. "We need to change your diapy to be healthy" NOOOOOOOPPPPEEE! So I did was any self respecting mom would do and wrestled her child down into a clean diaper.

And that's where we stopped. He wouldn't put a stitch on. So, with a bit of sadness and curiosity, I left Owen and Nana to duke it out. Nana said she would wait till he changed his mind.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

He wouldn't dress for her. He wouldn't dress for food. He wouldn't dress for PopPop. He wouldn't dress for Jesus (you gotta try it all). So...call in the cavalry. Dad.

Joe was asked to come over and put an end to the 4-hour clothes standoff. And with a bit of a talking-to, when I arrived back after breakfast and errands, I was met by a happy, smiling Owen and a weary set of grown-ups.

So what have we learned from this? I have no clue.

Or perhaps, don't think you can break the will of a certain 2.5 year old. The only thing that will break is your sanity.