Today on the O files...tales of the little man who thinks he is big, and other toddler moments.

I have mentioned Owen's affinity for tools before, but recently his zeal has grown to an almost ridiculous level (in my opinion, of course). Whereas The Strong-Willed One used to spend an afternoon at home begging to go outside or to watch movies of himself on the computer, I now must devise a plethora of worthy distractions to combat his *constant* desire to go to the basement. What is in the basement you ask? The workbench, the tools, the 2x4 with holes, screws and pegs in it that Reuel made for him, and the 5 gallon bucket turned upside down that Reuel taught him to stand on so that he could 'work' at the bench. In other words, little boy promised land.

The same child who rarely engages with any toy or book for longer than about 30 seconds will stand on said bucket for hours if I allow him to. The delight that results is palpable. The tantrum that results when it is time to go upstairs is even more palpable. It's not that I have any problem with letting him enjoy playing and feeling grown up (because that's really what it's about) but it is simply not healthy for either of us to be down there aaaalllll day doing this. And so rather than deal with tantrums when I have to ask him to stop, it is much, much easier to only go down there once a day or so. For a while I had the theory that if I just let him get as much of standing on that bucket as he wanted, he would eventually bore and tire of it and the spell would be broken. Not so! Experiment attempted and results disproved hypothesis.

Here's how it goes when he does have workbench time. Run over to bucket and say up-up-up-up-up-up-up until mommy lifts Owen onto bucket. Owen looks over his setup to see if anything's missing and amasses all of the important items within his reach while mommy is there to help. Three screws, three pegs, hammer, one long screwdriver, one short, pliers, package of shims...check! Now that he has everything, look through narrowed eyes at mommy, point open palm at her and grunt (interpretation: Mommy go away!! I want to be doing this all by myself! This is man work! There is no place for you here!). Mommy goes over to other side of basement to work on the laundry (hmm, woman work? just wait til you're old enough to learn how to turn the knob on the washer big man!). Anytime something drops on the floor Owen says, 'Uh-oh! Uh-oh!' and then mommy is not only permitted, but expected to return to the workbench area and retrieve it. Then, the open palm routine again. And so on. If mommy tries to come over to chat or spend time together when nothing has fallen on the floor...much upsettedness. (Mommy is not Owen's doormat in general, mommy just thinks that this particular pattern is probably a healthy sign of growing independence and so respects the dictator's wishes in this case.) Atop the bucket, Owen bangs with the hammer, sort of pokes at the screws with the screwdriver, moves everything around, moves it again, and really doesn't do very much. But boy is it fun. And I do get the laundry done :)

The love affair with tools is part of a bigger picture of Owen's increasing differentiation of Reuel and I in his mind. It is interesting to watch. For instance, Owen is incredibly bold in general about stair climbing (he can slither downstairs at light speed, it's amazing), but the two front steps into our house are very tall and he has thought them too much to manage...rightfully so. When we go outside he waits at the top and once I'm at the bottom he jumps into my arms to get down. Recently there have been a few times where I've gone over to the car to get something and he's stuck on the top step and starts crying and fussing for me to come get him, nothing strange there. Well, last weekend when Reuel was home the two of them went outside and Reuel walked down the steps in front of Owen. What does Owen do but watch Reuel go down and then not hesitate for a moment but go right down after him, grabbing the railing and basically trying to drop himself down to the lower step, holding himself up by one arm while he's trying to find the step underneath with his feet. I would call it peer pressure, but I guess it's be-like-daddy pressure in this case. I find it adorable, that with Reuel Owen finds a way to muster up courage, without any fussing. I think it speaks well that he already respects him in a special way that is not the same as with me. But maybe I read too much into it.

Today we met friends at the mall and attempted to play in the play area. I'm not sure why Owen is not really interested in playing with the other kids...a little concerning. He just wants to escape out into the mall and run around. So the entire episode was a chasing game of Owen escaping and me running after him. If I had been wearing workout clothing I wouldn't have minded but building up such a sweat in jeans and a sweater wasn't all that fun. I am reading a book called raising your challenging child, or something like that, by Stanley Greenspan and it is really fascinating. Of course, with all of that info in my head I started getting concerned that Owen isn't starting to relate to people as effectively as he could be--between the hair pulling, and not loving playing in groups--but knowing me, I should give it a little more time before I worry.

OK, if you don't want to hear about potty issues, turn away now. Today was the end of a 2-day nap strike, revolving around diaper issues that have been going on for a couple of weeks now. Owen poops as soon as I lay him down for his nap and leave the room. It doesn't matter when I put him down, or the spacing between lunch and nap, or how much he eats or drinks that day or the day prior. I believe he has actually gained enough control and smarts that he intentionally saves the event for the crib. No big deal, except for a long while he wouldn't go to sleep in the soiled state. So, I would have to return to the room, change him and put him back down. The first few times, he went ahead and took a nap. Then, he started staying awake after I had put him back down. The child who has had extremely strict sleep habits imposed upon him is not used to being able to get mommy to come back in for any reason...but poopy diaper was the one excuse that finally worked. And Owen learned fast!! The last two days involved a whole lot of crying and no napping. And very early bedtimes (he's slept from 5pm to 6:30am the last two days!). Today I think he pooped as usual, but he went ahead and went to sleep. I feel kind of bad about that, but a dirty bum is less dangerous than no napping in my opinion.

He is very aware/obsessed with his potty habits lately. He tells me 'po po' and 'dipe' when he's done his business, and sometimes says po po even when he hasn't (and I'm beginning to think it's when he's #1'd). Potty training readiness? One would hope, but when we sit on the potty he gets very, very upset and goes to get a diaper and wants it ON! He clearly has some feeling of security about going in the diaper and is very wary of the potty. So I'm not pushing it right now.

Well, I'd like to do something else with the precious naptime other than blog (and this is long enough!).