THE PRICE WE PAY...

More often than not, when it comes to a 30 lb. boy with sparkly brown eyes, I have a hard time saying "No." To be perfectly honest though, I think I may preempt his protests with an automatic cave in.... Take yesterday for example... We had just left an incredible birthday party at Giggles and Hugs. Jonah had his face painted, a balloon blown into a dragon (er, dinosaur?), a big piece of cake, two kinds of ice cream and even a life size bubble blown around his body. To quote his new favorite television show, The Fresh Beat Band, "We had a great day, it was a super way, to spend some time together." Btw, side note- if you don't watch this with your child: Please do. Share in my horror. With lines like "hip hop and pop, my legs just won't stop," I feel very alone. Join me.

ANYWAY, there are these carts, these fire truck carts, outside the market... And on our way out, as I was schlepping a shopping bag with a dozen apples and grape juice to make Charoset for Jonah's preschool Seder (this I'll save for another post), the gift bag from the party, and the dinosaur (er, caterpillar?), the 30 lb. boy's eyes twinkled just right and his voice sang just so:

"Mommy, can I go in the fire-"

"YES."

Am I sucker for his cuteness? Yes. But in less than 3 seconds of him asking, I saw life without this firetruck cart flash before me. It was a hard 10 minutes. One where there would have definitely been tears, tantrums, and a fancy balloon getting popped. We would have eventually made it to my car... but along the way, it would have been gnarly, tough and all around unpleasant.

I took out my credit card.

Yes, credit card. These carts cost $7.

Breathe.

Yes, SEVEN DOLLARS.

SWIPE.

My purse went in the bottom compartment with the dangling green worm. Our groceries, his gift bag went into the front seat, and the batman painted fire chief went on the top seat.

"Here we go!" I said.

"Thank you, Mommy. Thank you."

Wha-- whaaat? He gets it? He gets THIS?

"You're welcome, baby. Let's go for a ride."

It was a short ride. The market and my car... very close. In fact, I even asked him if we should go for a spin around the mall since we had this cool car. He said no, he was ready to go home. So we did. 10 minutes tops in this cart. $7 on my Visa.

For me $7 was a small price to pay for 10 minutes of calm. The rest of the night was flawless. No protests. No drama. Was it the cart? Does saying "yes" do the trick? What things do you give in on or pay for, for the sake of keeping the peace?

NON, NEIN, NEE, NYET....

The lecture in Wacky's Class today was about using the word "NO." Wacky said that our babies are entering a stage where they will begin to "test" us and that through repetition, will begin to understand consequences. She said that by saying "no" all the time we'll sort of stifle their curiosity and exploration and that we should use the word "no" sparingly; it should be saved for 2 or 3 things and instances in your house that are dangerous....like the fireplace, or the stove, or daddy's gun collection...

Wacky said that if you use the word "no" too often, it becomes unimportant and has no meaning and can lead to inconsistent parenting (kind of like when Baby-Ko wants to play with my iPod and I say "No" and then T-Ko uses his blackberry as a teether). Wacky said that instead of saying "no," you narrate the situation for them and then use redirection as a tool to get them to stop doing whatever it is that they shouldn't be doing. So for example, if Baby-Ko reaches down for his poop while I'm changing his diaper, I should say, "Wow, Baby-Ko. You've found your poop. Poop comes out of your tush and is pretty messy. Why don't you play with mommy's bangle instead.... " Or something like that.

I don't know. It's all very fluffy and lovely sounding.... The idea that we'll always have this free-flowing line of communication with Baby-Ko sounds fantastic... The idea that I'll always have the time to redirect his attention when he's playing with the phone, for example, and has accidentally dialed 911... or the patience to tell him to stop playing with the trash in the waste basket (actually, NOT say "stop" but instead, "Wow, Baby-Ko. You've found the trash. Did you know that Americans generate about 4.6 pounds of trash per person, per day? Why don't you help me by carrying the garbage to the back yard where we will start a compost heap instead."

I don't know. Things were different when I was a kid. My mom said "no" all the time and I think I turned out okay... and she certainly didn't rely on a Wacky to tell her what to do. Unless of course my Grandmother counts...