The Terrible Twos - The Saga Continues

My little Hope E.'s antics as she makes her way through her “Terrible Twos” year are sure to test this grandma's patience. We are trying to potty-train Hope. At Me Ma's house she will only sit on the potty chair fully clothed – while at home, she has actually used it, twice.

I tell her, “If you are a big girl, like Jessica, and go potty in the potty chair, we will have a party!”

Nope, that doesn't work.

“You can wear pretty “Big Girl” panties if you go potty in the potty-chair.”

Are you kidding me?

Lately, she has started telling me when she has gone poo in her diaper. Yesterday, I was trying to throw some supper together, when I looked over at Hope. She was standing if front of the TV, one hand jammed down into her diaper. Her other hand held a big brown clump.

“Nooo, Hope, ewww!” I exclaimed in horror.  I rushed her to the bathroom to wash her hands, before she could touch anything. Next stop, the bedroom to change one nasty diaper and check her clothes for contamination. “Why do you do that, Hope? That is soo nasty!” I rambled on, totally grossed out.

I must say, Hope comes by this trait honestly. I remember when her father was a little boy, just a bit younger than Hope is now. I heard him giggling one day, when he was suppose to be napping. Entering his room, I was assaulted by a sight and smell I remember like it was yesterday! Brian was brown, head to toe. Poop was smeared from one end of the crib to the other. The walls, within an arms reach, as well.

After eating her supper last night, Hope was taken into the bedroom, where Christy changed her, once again, shapoopied diaper. Caught it before any damage could be done this time. Yes!

A few minutes later, I heard Hope yelling, “Help, Me Ma, mess!” Entering the bedroom, I found the now shredded diaper, strewn across the bedroom floor – courtesy of the dog.

I will be so glad when Hope is finally potty-trained!

I'll throw you a party, Hope, and buy you a dozen balloons. Pretty please, please, please, please, please use the potty chair Hope.

Terrible Twos

My once sweet little monkey, Hope, is into her “Terrible Twos” now.

Hope loves balloons. Her birthday balloon lasted for a month, but finally would float no more. So, being the good grandma that I am, I told her we would go to the store and buy a new one.

My mistake was buying the balloon first, and then thinking we could do a little grocery shopping, then stop for lunch.

Parking in the Kroger parking lot, I went around to the back door and proceeded to get Hope out of the car seat. She had a death grip on that balloon. I tried to pry it out of her little fingers.

“No, no, my ba-youn," she screamed.

“Balloon will be right here, waiting for you when you come back,” I assured her.

I had a heck of a time getting the seat belt unbuckled with Hope thrashing and the balloon's ribbon intertwined through everything, but somehow I managed.

Hope still screamed, “No, no, my ba-youn,” at the top of her lungs.

“We can't take balloon in the store, Hope, they sell balloons and they will make us pay for it again,” I tried to reason with her.

Dragging her from the car, I ran for the nearest shopping cart. She was wiggling and screaming so much I thought I would drop her. I couldn't believe her super-toddler strength. It took me several minutes before I was able to wrestle her into the cart. All the while she was screaming, “No, no, no!”

I looked around, wondering if anyone thought I was trying to kidnap her. One little old lady was sitting in her car, with her window rolled down.

“That's a feisty one,” she said.

“She didn't want to leave her balloon in the car,” I said, hoping the police weren't already on their way.

As we entered the lobby, I spied a lone balloon up in the corner of the ceiling.

“Look, Hope, a balloon,” I said.

Hope immediately stopped crying.  Almost as if I had turned a switch off,  Hope was her normal sweet self again! I was able to shop to my heart's content, no mention of her “ba-youn".

Hope E. and Me Ma

The sun streaming through the living room windows, illuminated the tiny hand and nose prints, and hinted of spring on its way. Dust bunnies hopped around the floor searching for dust carrots. The TV sang out the tune of a popular children's show. Coloring books and crayons were scattered across the trunk, spilling onto the floor. The floor was a virtual mine field of toys.

“What are we gonna do?” Hope asked, her two year old shoulders raised in a shrug, her hands stretched out at her side, palms up. Her big brown eyes, looking up at me in askance from her round face. The light brown pig-tails that sprang from each side of her head, bounced as she spoke.

“I don't know, Hope E., what are we going to do?” I said. Born Hope Evangeline Garner, I was with her mother at the pediatricians office, when the nurse came out and called for, “Hope E.” From then on, we would call her Hope E.

“I got a idea!” Hope said as her eyes brightened. Bending down with a snort, she picked up a piggy, and carried it to the little red barn. Opening the barn doors, she placed the piggy in his accustomed spot.  Jumping on the band wagon, I scooped up a couple of zoo animals and returned them to the zoo. Hope and I were now singing, “Clean-up, clean-up! Everybody, everywhere! Clean-up, clean-up! Everybody do their share!”

The toys picked up, I brought out a broom, and a little stick vacuum. Using the vacuum, I chased down those dust bunnies, while Hope ran the broom under the couch. I set  the vacuum down for a minute, to move a chair.  Hope saw her chance and grabbed it.

“Hope E... can gramma please use the vacuum?” I asked.

 
“No, my Hope E.!” Hope said as she turned on the vacuum and ran it around the room. I had to be content with the broom, I knew from past experience that Hope wouldn't give up without a fight. Soon, I had a nice pile of dirt - that Hope immediately ran through, neglecting to sweep up.

The house clean, Hope decided to go for a march. Joining in with her, I started signing, “The ants go marching one by one, ha rah, ha rah!” By the time we reached the ants marching ten by ten, I was ready to drop. I sat down to catch my breath. 
 

Hope walked over to her birthday balloons, attached to the back of her high chair. Straining she reached her arms up into the air and said, “Uh, uh, can't reach!”

 
I laughed, “Hope E. grab the ribbons and pull.”  Hope grabbed the ribbons. “Pull, Hope E., pull,” I told her. Hope pulled until the balloons were at her eye level. She stood there, just looking at “My Hope E.'s” balloons for about fifteen minutes, occasionally giving them a kiss.

Glancing at the clock, I noticed that nap time had arrived. Scooping Hope up, I rushed her to the bedroom for a diaper change. Then, we snuggled down on the bed, whispering secrets until I started to doze off. Listening to her breathing, I assumed she, too, had succumbed to the lure of the sand man. Easing myself up off the bed, I looked down to see her mischievous eyes looking up at me, a wide smile on her face that said, “Fooled you Me Ma.”