I have the weekly privilege of chillin’ with my 2.5 year old nephew Noah. It’s not babysitting since I enjoy eating play dough and breaking crayons just as much as he does ( that *snap* of a fresh crayon is weirdly satisfying). Today’s educational activity was a visit to the Rocket ( a nostalgic toy shop in downtown Ypsilanti), and Mcdonald’s. When we finally sat down to eat after a long afternoon of playing with slingshots and dinosaurs, I became aware that we may have missed nap time. My suspicion was confirmed when seconds later my once adorable nephew mutated into a bright red blob of tantrum! His tiny hands folded into claws and he began tearing at his face and eyeballs smearing snot and dirt all over his cheruby face. He pulled at his skin and sobbed, at first I thought maybe he had gotten a grease burn from the initial opening of his sandwich, but upon further review determined the reason to be far more horrific. He had … I don’t know if I can even say this… Noah had received…. breathe…. the same toy he’d gotten last week!!!!
Too dramatic? Anyway, I calmly told him in my most adult voice that I needed him to stop crying, and eat his lunch. When he regained his ability to take in oxygen I told him I would try to switch the toy for another one.
As I was standing in line a woman approached me, she introduced herself as a psychologist and get this COMMENDED me for my appropriate and loving communication with my son ( I almost didn’t correct her, as to not lessen the compliment), she told me she worked with families and really appreciated the way I handled the sticky situation!
I always knew I was a good auntie but now I have a professional appraisal and I am priceless!
Suck on that CPS!!
On another note my refrigerator Obama is wearing his super hero outfit and I think he looks dandy!