Some days Little L is a doll. A well behaved little doll who listens carefully and acts exactly the way we want her to act. The other 99% of the time Little L is a perfectly typical two-year-old. Our words go in one ear and out the other without making any connections whatsoever in the middle.
Last night, after a particularly frustrating 30 minutes of trying to get her to sit in her chair and eat some dinner without wriggling like a gummy worm on crack or sliding out of her chair like melted taffy, I might have lost my cool a bit. It was probably the perpetual cheerful look on Little L’s face as I ranted, raved, held her in her chair, put her in time out, and tried every other thing I could think of to keep her in her spot.
I looked around wildly, desperate for a solution, and finally barked at M.
“Give me your belt!”
“Huh?” He looked at me blankly, probably wondering if I’d finally flipped my lid.
“Give me your belt, now! Please!”
He shot me an unreadable look and started to unbuckle his belt.
“Uh. Exactly what are you going to do with the belt?” He asked as he handed it to me.
“I’m going to use the belt to tie her to the chair. Like a seat belt.” I answered as I tried to fit the belt around Little L and the chair back.
“Oh!” The relief in M’s voice made me look up.
“No, seriously, what?”
“I thought you were maybe going to hit her with it!”
I looked at my husband of nearly 7 years and then at my 2 year old baby. He’s never seen me raise a hand against anyone in anger. She’s 2 for crying out loud. Two, adorable, round, sweet, infuriatingly two.
I didn’t answer. Just handed him back the belt that hadn’t fit around both the baby and the chair.
“What? Seriously, what else do you do with a belt? It was an honest assumption!”
“You know honey,” I replied. “There is actually more than one use for a belt.”
As to why he actually gave me the belt if that’s what he thought I was going to do with it… well, that’s a whole other question. Maybe he was scared I’d be even harder on him if he didn’t comply…