I call my youngest son No-no. His name is Noah, so it’s short for Noah. But at this age, not quite three, it’s also no coincidence, really.
Wearing Brother’s Cleats
No-no (also goes by No-ee) is really a very sweet baby. I say this about him at an age in which I would already have been calling my older children preschoolers. But he’s my youngest, and he’s a baby. I like to think this is partly because I’ve grown more realistic about what he’s capable of. But I know it’s also partly because I am knowingly keeping him a baby.
The older children’s motto was, “I do it my-SEF!” at this age. They’d yank the shoes from my hand, the shirt from the drawer, and then struggle and fuss, and I’d let them do it themselves so as to preserve their dignity and sense of independence.
Noah’s motto is, “You do it. I too tired.” Sometimes I force him to do whatever it is anyway, but sometimes I don’t, because the child genuinely seems unable to put shoes on, for example. I know, I know! He should be able to figure it out!
But he’s so little and cute! And also I have three children and we really have to get out of the freaking door and get to school before the bell rings! Now is not a good time to tough-love him into somehow figuring out how to get shoes on his feet.
And there’s another problem. I’m not the only one doing things for him. Selah, my sweet oldest, is forever putting his shoes on, cutting his food, even carrying him around. I think he weighs approximately 10 pounds less than her. But she carries him.
The thing is, none of this even really worries or bothers me. I adore this child, and he’s really very easy in general, and so darn cheerful. I even enjoy the irrational two year oldness of him much more than I did with my first two, since this time I saw it coming, know it will pass quickly, and know that there can be worse things than an irrational but easily distractable person who still really just wants to be held.
This morning I described No-no to my friend Kristin as basically being a Muppet. Cute and round-faced and totally unreasonable. With a big, talking mouth. As we drive around in the car, he’s smiling and talking nonsense in the backseat. Even when he’s grumpy, he puts on this big, feigned grumpus face, and it’s still cuter than the dickens.
Don’t grow up too fast, my cute little Muppet. I’ll help you put on your shoes.
You Use This to Catch Spiders, Right Mommy?
I Just Died of Cuteness