Bring on the Phobias

G hasn't shown any typical baby/toddler phobias other than attachment issues until quite recently. Although his history with the bathtub has been challenging,

he hasn't had trouble taking a bath for awhile and only protested when we had to put water on his head, or when he had to leave. But for at least two weeks, it has been torture for G to even consider going near water. I'm not sure what to blame for all this--maybe we haven't been at all regular with bath time, which could have helped, maybe we were too aggressive at trying to get him to lay back in the tub, maybe I've told him "no" while he was playing around the tub too many times. Whatever the reasons, and they may have nothing to do with us, he is now adamantly anti-bath. Sadly for me, I'm not about to hand him over to my SIL, whom I love, for two weeks without trying to help him fix this. So it looks like bath time everyday for me.

Last night, he cried almost the whole time, standing in the tub, holding on to me for dear life. We finally convinced him to sit on his bum so he could get out. He is slightly distracted by his boat and his letters, but only for a few seconds at a time.

This morning, I took him in the shower with me, which seemed better. He spent most of the time standing at the back of the tub, with his back to the spray, sticking letters on the wall. He did let me wash him, including his hair, so I guess that's progress.

He's also developed a fear of the vacuum. This is not due to lack of use on my part. He has been cautious of the vacuum for awhile, but never afraid. Today, I tried to explain that it's just a machine. That I turn it on. (He loves turning it on, too, but then runs away) That I push it, and I'm not going to get close to him or try to hurt him. This seemed to help a little. He sat in the other room, safely on a chair reading a book while I vacuumed the opposite side of the house. Then we I needed to vacuum that room, I turned off the vacuum and gave him notice. He disappeared upstairs.

He came back down for lunch, then stayed down while I finished the main floor. When I went upstairs I was fully expecting a royal mess to clean up. Usually when I take a nap in the morning he empties the laundry on the floor and dumps out the garbage and such, but when I came up, I found nothing more than this:

he brought his bed into my room. I guess it felt safer. It's so cute cause that is essentially what his bed looks like. I helped him bring in Otto, which reminded him of how fun Otto is. He's too big to carry around everywhere, but once he was off the bed, suddenly it was throwing him around,

wrestling,

and hugs.

All in all, a fairly productive morning and some major cuteness.

Santa's Little Helper

Okay, maybe not Santa's, but he's certainly mine. G has always been interested in helping out. I hope to never use chores as a punishment and keep encouraging his behavior, but like all parenting philosophies, I'm sure that will get thrown in the trash with the poopy diapers.

One of the few times G went to Nursery lasts month, thanks to snow cancelling church, I had to go with him since he was too upset after I changed his diaper to let me leave. It sure is hard to get little kids to adjust to Nursery when they don't get to go every week. When the Primary singing time crew came in at the end of Nursery, they started to sing "When We're Helping We're Happy". They asked the children what they did to help out at home. Some could talk, some like G, not so much, but they asked if they made their beds or cleaned up their toys. When they got to G, they asked if he picked up his toys and I said he helps by unloading the dishwasher. Well, needless to say, they were a bit shocked by that, but now I have photographic proof.

I get all the sharp knives out first, then he takes everything else out

and either puts it in the drawer himself

or hands it to me.

Usually he hands it off.

Then we switch for the top rack

and I hand him all the tupperware, which goes in his "playing cupboard" in the kitchen. It's the one place he's allowed to get into.

He has his own system for putting stuff in there, I'm sure, since sometimes he screws all the lids on, and sometimes he takes them all off.

It sure is nice to have good help around. And it's pretty much his favorite thing to do. It becomes hard to convince him when the dishwasher is dirty that it doesn't need to be unloaded yet. This is why I generally keep the dishes in the sink until there's enough to run a cycle. Less tears that way.