8 Things My Toddler Loathes
When my toddler doesn't like something, oh boy, she makes no bones about it.
Sleeping in Her Crib
My daughter loathes her crib. In fact, I’m sure she curses the day we bought it. When she’s in it, she howls in anguish like a puppy being crate-trained. And more often than not, I go rescue that little puppy from that mean crib. I’m such a sucker.
Every time I try to get my daughter dressed, the two of us end up having an amateur Greco-Roman wrestling match. She does not like to wear clothes. They imprison her. Just the sight of me walking towards her with an outfit in my hands makes her lose her mind.
Anything with Feathers
A few months ago when we were walking by the pier, a startled pigeon suddenly flew up in front of us. It was so close that when it flapped to get away, its wing grazed the top of my daughter’s head. That was the day that birds, or any animal with wings for that matter, became scary toddler-attacking predators who exist only to carry out the goal of flapping their wing on my daughter’s head. Anytime she sees a bird or if she ever hears anyone utter the word “bird,” she reaches up and covers the top of her head.
She loves seeing Goofy or Pluto on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and she loves reading books about Santa and the Easter Bunny. But make them life-size and anywhere in her vicinity, and they become vessels of terror and panic, haunting her dreams for days to come.
Photo Credit: F. Duten
We’ve finally agreed that it’s just mean to turn on the vacuum cleaner when my daughter is in the room. You’ve never seen a look more terrified, a toddler running harder for her life than my daughter’s reaction to the whirr of the vacuum. Unless a life-sized character is also in the room. Her reaction to that would probably be worse.
You would think we had just strapped her into some sort of Medieval torture chamber by the way my daughter protests being in a high chair.
Watching Us Enjoy a Meal
It’s obvious that my daughter cannot stand to watch us enjoy our food, because she does everything in her power to prevent it. Mom’s about to take a delicious bite of her wedge salad? Time to throw my roll at the man dining next to us. What, dad is savoring his pecan-crusted salmon? Oops, I just knocked over his water. My bad.
Photo Credit: Eva Rinaldi
Pitbull (the singer, not the dog)
My daughter loves music, and she loves most music that offers her a catchy hook or a dope beat. But when that song (any song) by Pitbull comes on the radio, she sternly shouts “NO!” and shakes her head in disapproval. Apparently she’s not a fan of “Mr. Worldwide.” I guess it runs in the family.
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