A Day in the Life of an Eighteen-Month-Old
| January 21, 2025Oh… oh, you want your socks on TOP of your shoes. Okay, that makes sense. You’re the boss
I hear you. I hear you.
I know, it’s six thirty. It’s morning.
I’m coming! Yes, yes, here’s your bottle. And your blanket. And your banana. And your cereal: Chex, with Life on top. And then more Chex on top. Sure, I’ll add more milk. And a little more. Okay, I’ll make you oatmeal, too.
Don’t worry. I’m just giving you the spoon. I wouldn’t dare feed you.
Throwing all your food down? I got the memo. You’re ready to come out. Let’s get dressed.
Oh no, sir. Don’t run away. We’re getting dressed. Just lie down for a second, stop rolling away while I try to close this diaper—
Ah, dear, give me a moment to decipher “u tot mi soo!” Is it milk that you want? No, you got that refusal across very effectively by throwing your bottle at me. A pot to chew? A trip to the zoo? No need for tears, I get the message.
Oh… oh, you want your socks on TOP of your shoes. Okay, that makes sense. You’re the boss.
Playtime! Let’s take out the trucks. I see — one lap around the rug was sufficient? You could’ve just said, “Done.” You didn’t need to spill out the box.
Let’s try Magna-Tiles. How many will you attach before you’re finished playing? Three. Not bad.
So what’s next? Look at all this fun stuff that keeps you occupied: the broom, the spray bottle, my veggie chopper, goggles, a phone charger, my lens solution, my bronzer brush, a package of wipes. And a sleeve of cups! Perfect.
But it’s getting too quiet. That can mean only one thing… You’ve found your favorite spot: the bathroom.
YOwwwww. I’m slipping on the flood spilling out from the tub. Baruch Hashem, I’m okay. Baruch Hashem, water evaporates. And baruch Hashem, I got you out of the bathroom with minimal tears.
Next up for playtime: the box of Cheerios. Baruch Hashem, we have a broom.
A broom. The broom. Hey… where did you put my broom? (You laugh. Stomp more Cheerios. Admire the dust.)
I’m thinking that getting out of the house may be our best option right now. You think so, too?
Good. Can you lie straight while I change your diaper—
And can we switch the socks to under your shoes?
OOF, that was my face. Got it. Socks stay on top. You’re the boss.
But yes, sir, you will be wearing a coat, whether you like it or not. Sorry, Charlie. I’m also the boss.
Will you stop wiggling and stretching so I can buckle you into your car seat?
Yes, you will sit in the shopping cart. And yes, you can have a cookie bag. Yes, you can have a squeeze yogurt. Yes, you can have that chocolate bar. Just lower the tone, hon.
We’re going home for lunch. Can you stop wiggling again so I can buckle you in?
One peanut butter sandwich coming right up. What did you say? I didn’t catch that. Say it again? You want upnit. Um. Want to sit up on the counter? You want another sandwich? I’m stumped.
Oh… ohhh — you want the sandwich open. Sure! But why are you still crying? I opened it! Oh, I see. I made a grave mistake. I cut your sandwich in half. I’ll eat it.
Here’s a new one. Magnificent in its wholeness and openness. You can see the peanut butter. You can touch it, too. And mush it on your face.
Why aren’t you eating it? Ah, you want my protein bar. Well, you can have it — I’ve lost my appetite.
Here’s your juice cuppie, too, and here’s my coffee m—
Where’s my coffee mug? Where’s my cof—
Oh, here it is. In the bathtub! My blessed mug. Thanks for rinsing it out, honey!
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 928)
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