Mom wouldn’t let me eat a vomit grape

Exhibit A: vomit grape. So the story goes, I was doing dishes, and I hadn’t heard L squeal in the last three seconds. Rule #1 of parenting: quiet kid = mischief brooding. Turns out, that little chipmunk had stored a grape in his cheek and was gagging on it. Luckily, he had positioned himself near the ottoman, so he (instinctively??) leaned over it and out came the culprit. Another rule of parenting: you think baby spit-up is gross until you smell toddler vomit. Then you realize that the baby stuff is just a cute, juicy burp. Naturally, he saw nothing wrong with eating the vomit grape (am I raising a human child or a baby bird?!), and was appalled when I threw it in the trash.

Aside from being really funny, the point of this picture was to illustrate the topic, “6 Ways I Say No to My Kid.” ApPARENTly (ha!), I’m not the first to take incriminating photos of my offspring. I truly hope this guy inspires a trend, because we all know that our kids are cute. But let’s not be liars and pretend we never see them like this.

6 Ways I Say “No” to My Kid

1) Distract, distract, distract. I usually choose the art of distraction over the word “no.” I talk about what we’re going to eat for breakfast during the morning diaper change. While I’m wiping breakfast off of his face and hands, L looks at the family calendar (aka, pics of himself). To forego a fight in the car seat, we listen for our dog barking because we just left her (as I silently hope that we don’t get another noise complaint). In the car, L takes off his shoes and socks Every. Single. Ride. He also “reads” and we look for busses, garbage trucks, and cement mixers. And look: all that just got us to 8:30am!

2) Sing. After reading my first bullet point, I realize that I sing my way through all of these activities. ABC’s are performed during the diaper change, in addition to a French rap about wearing pants, which I composed myself. (Please contact the Grammys on my behalf.) “This is how we wash our hands” is in the post-breakfast repertoire. And pretty much any and every song make up the encore in the car.

3) Tick-estle. The tickle-wrestle requires much more brain than brawn, and is very effective. There must be a buildup:

• Make eye contact with your opponent.
• Search for optimal places to strike (tummy, armpits).
• Do not use the element of surprise; the fun is in the anticipation.
• ATTACK! Alternate between tickling and wrestling until giggles ensue.

4) Give choices. I do this for everyday tasks like choosing his outfit, a snack, etc. But when I give choices, I’m really just steering him towards the correct one.

• “You can hold mommy’s hand in the elevator, or I can pick you up.”
• “You can walk on the sidewalk or sit in the stroller.”
• “You can have dessert when you finish your banana.” (Finish the damn fruit; mom wants dessert!)

5) Say buh-bye. We pretty much say bye-bye to everything: When we’re finished playing with a toy, when an activity is over, and when we say good-bye to an actual person. A five, then three, then one minute warning are given prior to the farewell. I say good-bye, and then L usually does. He needs his closure, you know.

6) Just say no. There is a time and place for “no,” and that is L’s safety. After his second degree charcoal grill burn, afternoon in the emergency room, and wardrobe consisting of sock puppet hand for two weeks, we are quick to use the N word in safety situations. So much so that our stern tone usually scares the bejesus out of him. “No” is used near streets, hot stoves, and cabinets filled with toxic liquids (aka, booze).

The explicit use of the N word is rare at our house, but that doesn’t mean we don’t say “no.” We say it implicitly through tactics of distraction, choices, and good-byes. How do you Just Say No…without using the N word?

Stay social, mom friends.

P