Who's the Boss?

The lazy days of summer have been anything but lazy. Since the 4th of July, Ben has been quite busy, attending Baby Boot Camp workouts three mornings a week, visiting with friends in the afternoons, hosting "house parties" with Auntie Joyce on Thursdays (you leave those two alone and you never really know what's gonna happen!), and discovering new things every day to get his grubby little paws on. He has fussed and strained and reached til he can reach no more in order to touch the spiral binder on my nightstand. I keep telling him "that's not really very exciting" but, big surprise, he doesn't listen. He has yelled and argued and broken out a sweat simply trying to get his hands on the little buckle on the booster seat to try and break free. I keep telling him "those are the rules - short people stay buckled while eating" but, again, he doesn't listen. And my personal favorite - playing Houdini with the placemat that holds his food bowls, cups, and utensils. He yanks that sucker off the counter so fast he could win a contest. I thought I had outsmarted him....I weighted the placemat down with my lunch, my water bottle and the cordless phone. "Ben - this is too heavy to pull off the counter. Mama is smart today." And - he won again. It was a bad scene here at 3512 when I very calmly (and you all know how calm I stay) told Benjamin that I am the boss and he needed to listen.

Friday afternoon, Ben and I headed up to The Pit, our local kiddie playground, to meet up with Bobby and Ginny, our friends from Boot Camp. We were having a grand old time exploring the little tyke trucks and cars. Ben loved being perched on the teeny trikes that roll. I promise you, I blinked and he had tumbled off to the pavement. It was a low, light fall, but a fall just the same. And had he caught himself with his hands rather than his face, well, I wouldn't be so upset. As you can see from the picture, his injuries are minor, but visible. Our collective pride was damaged much more. He let me have it. And I was horrified. How could I have allowed him to get hurt? I'm the one in charge. He depends on me all of the time. After all, I'm the boss.

Really? Am I the boss? I make the rules right? I decide what is worn, what is eaten, when its worn, when its eaten. I decide what books we read, what stuffed animals are allowed to travel to the grocery with us. I set the bed time. I set the nap time. I determine where we are going for an adventure, who we are going to chat with, and when we must turn around for home. ME! I'm the boss! Well, what a wake up call I've received. I am not the boss at all. I might be the one responsible for his safety and overall well-being but fundamentally, Benjamin makes the decisions. He decides when he's going to nap, when he's going to eat, when he's going to cooperate and go to the grocery store. I might make a plate of food for him, but he decides to eat it or not. We have a whole array of toys and activities for him but Ben decides each and every time what he wants to play with. How scary to suddenly realize that you have no control AT ALL? My schedule, my actions, my life is now dictated by an 8 month old. Whew. What a relief! That suddenly takes all the pressure off. Eat what you want. Nap when you feel like it. Drag placemats, reach for spiral notebooks, try to get unbuckled. Go for it. You want to dive off of toy trucks and scratch your face up? Be my guest...... JUST KIDDING. Mama will still be there to try and catch you when you fall.....but since you're the boss, Benjamin, you'd better say when.