It used to be that bubs exclusively referred to himself in the second person. "You want to go outside," he'd whine, hanging on the door handle. "You excited!" when asked if he wanted to go to Baby Gym, the padded room populated with gymnastic mats, a ball pit, and a jumping house at our Y. "That's your doggie," he'd say, planting kisses on his stuffed dog's crusty fur. "That's not what you want!" he'd blubber when offered cheddar rather than string cheese.It made sense. "You" was, after all, the pronoun ... more

Elan and I took an excursion to IKEA yesterday. The last time we did this, we were still suffering move-in-shock, I had a long list of products to research, it was raining, dark at 4:30, we got stuck in traffic, and he cried the entire drive. And that was before we even made it into the store.This time proved that I have learned something about negotiating Life With Toddler. I had one thing to buy, I knew exactly what it was, and it was located in the kid's section. Elan ... more

This is the sight that greeted me when I came back from dropping bubs off at nursery school this morning. Elan's current loves: "old doggie" and numbers. I believe the dino was just thrown in to add texture.Earlier in the morning, Elan was making up all kinds of number stories with doggie. "Doggie seeing the numbers," he informed me, holding doggie carefully so that his head pointed at Elan's beloved foam numbers. "Come on, doggie, let's go see the numbers." And so on.Tomorrow Elan and I leave for San ... more

WARNING: This post deals with poop. If you are not currently responsible for dealing with a small person's intestinal issues, and you are not likely to be soon, you might want to skip this one. For those of you who continue, you might want to put that sandwich down. Okay, so I made it sound worse than it really is. But I know how it is - for those who don't spend their days getting intimate with the ins and outs, the products and byproducts, of another person's digestive tract, you ... more

Before I became a parent, I, like everyone, had heard much about "the terrible twos." Throughout my pregnancy, I could imagine mothering a tiny, helpless, staring-fascinated-at-leaves-on-a-tree baby. But whenever I considered the fact that that baby would someday become a tantrum-throwing, opinionated and loud two-year-old, a cold shudder ran through me. Well, those days are here. With a vengeance. And of course it hasn't been a completely sudden transition. The reality is that my son was rarely the kind of sweet, mellow, even-tempered baby I imagined in my pregnancy dreams. No, ... more