Two Peas (I Mean Asparagus) In A Pod

I thought I had more time. I thought I could deny that my child is, in fact, a boy, and yes, he too will put things in various orifices in and around his body. My time us up.

Oh sure, it started simply enough. He of course sticks his fingers in his nose every now and again, but really, who doesn't? (Is that too much information?) He has up to now stayed relatively clear of his nether-areas, but his most accessible "toy" has been found, and with an unlikely sleuth, no less: asparagus.

Casey's brother, Cam, his wife, Jen, and their 8-month-old baby, Trent were visiting at our house this weekend. We had a scrumptious feast of roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and asparagus, and all were content to put them in the proper orifice, which is of course the oral cavity. The course of Gavin's dinner, on the other hand, went more like this: scarf down adult-sized (normal adult-sized; Casey-sized portions don't count) portions of beef and potatoes, ask for seconds and then thirds, drink a little, and chat a lot. Then, when Mommy decides to see what he will do with a whole spear of asparagus, do exactly what she didn't think would happen: look at her mischievously and tentatively stick the crown portion in the nostril.

I just might be overreacting, but isn't this the sign of more to come? Here I am, surrounded by friends with ridiculously intelligent children who name states and capitals at age 2 (seriously, Andrea - that baby of yours is incredibly gifted!) and my child is testing the waters of all things orifice. This isn't to say that he is not smart, because he is a completely normally developing almost 2-year-old. In fact, I might even suggest that his motor skills out-do most kids his age (typical boy, I guess!). I'm just saying that I am falling into trap #1 of new-motherdom: the "My child will never do that!" curse.

This reminds me of a time when I was working in a preschool for special-needs children. Our youngest kids were 2 months shy of turning 3, and a particular towheaded 3-year-old with perpetual bedhead was a rambunctious reminder that parents have very little control over their toddlers. It started out as a lovely Christmas craft project in which the children were to dress up an otherwise ordinary construction paper cutout of a Christmas tree with feathers, sequins, cotton balls, buttons, etc. I was not in charge of this station, but I suddenly looked up from my own group when I heard our teacher shriek and the child begin to flail arms and legs wildly. As it turns out, some of the buttons fit quite nicely in his nose, but he was unable to retrieve them. The more he stuck his fingers in to get them out, the tighter the cannon was packed. A few firefighters and a hospital trip later and our dear student was back to normal, albeit banned from buttons for the rest of the year.

It is pictures like these that run through my head when I think of the whole new world open to Gavin as he embarks on this journey of small, irretrievable objects. I only hope that when we get called to the hospital, we get to ride in the firetruck.

Looks like it's time to shop for a better pair of tweezers.