No Worse For The Wear
It’s tough being 18-months old. There’s no shortage of “No’s!” and “Get down from there’s!” and you’re smaller than everyone else. Challenges and changes don’t always come easy for a little person. This is especially true when that change involves removing a much-loved fixture from their life.
Last weekend, Rich and I decided that it was time to wean Jacob from his bottle. Instead of taking the bottle away after his first birthday, as many mothers do, I relented, allowing him to enjoy this last link to babyhood just a little while longer. Perhaps it’s the fact that he is my last baby or maybe it’s the fact that I enjoy cradling him while he enjoys his bottle. Whatever the reason I/we clung to the bottle, it was simply time to let it go.
We had already been transitioning Jacob to the sippy cup well before his first birthday. In fact, he had been using only a sippy cup at his daycare provider’s for quite some time. Home was his lone bastion of bottle enjoyment. He anticipated and expected his bottle first thing in the morning, right after returning home from daycare in the afternoon, and last thing in the evening.
When Saturday morning dawned and he awoke and there was no bottle, the tantrums began. I showed him his sippy cup, but he would have none of it. More than once throughout the weekend, he’d rage, yelling and throwing the sippy cup across the room. Eventually, however, thirst won out and he would reluctantly pick up his sippy and take an angry draw from it. By the end of the weekend, we were through the worst of weaning.
On Monday night, Rich brought home two brand new sippy cups for our little one. Lightnin’ McQueen, the bright red racecar from the Disney movie “Cars,” was on each. Jacob was immediately smitten with the new cups. His bottle days seemed forgotten.
On Tuesday morning, Jacob enjoyed his milk from his new Lightnin’ McQueen sippy, but after he finished, he didn’t want to let it go. Relieved that he wasn’t carrying on about the absent bottle, I allowed Jacob to take his new sippy to his daycare provider’s. That afternoon, when I picked up him, I learned that the sippy had been the object of much commotion. When another child had picked up Jacob’s sippy, Jacob had screamed his displeasure and took steps to reclaim his sippy by force.
I can’t say that I’m happy for Jacob’s little outbursts, but I am happy to see that we’ve made it through one of life’s little transitions no worse for the wear.