As of yesterday, our first official disciplinary action with Kendry has begun. Sure, we've had little things that we give him a gentle "no" about, like pulling mommy's jewelry or hair, grabbing his spoon while we are feeding him, or grabbing daddy's glasses off his face. Those have been no big deal, mainly because Kendry quickly gets distracted with another item, and, let’s face it, the consequences of him doing those things really aren’t that bothersome. But lately Kendry has developed a little bit of an attitude. If you take an item away from him, like the magazine he somehow got a hold of yesterday morning and promptly took a few bites from, he busts out his angry cry. Likewise, when he wants attention and you don’t give it to him, he has discovered that screaming gets a reaction out of us. Up until now we have let it slide a little because, as most babies do, he tends to squeal with delight when he laughs, and sometimes it is hard to determine when that laughing is turning into frustration squealing. But now, the frustration squealing has become frustration screaming and it is not very pleasant to listen to. Of course, this usually happens when we have left him to play on the floor, or in his jumperoo, so it takes you awhile to get across the room to tell him “no” and/or give him a little swat. We have tried giving him a firm "no" from across the room, and then face to face, but that does not work. And go ahead, call the blog police on me because the secret is out: we are swatting parents. Deal with it.
The thing is, I am amazed at how humbling this experience is. Now I am beginning to add up all those times Justin and I have critiqued how other people handle (or fail to handle) their own children, and I realize that discipline is so much easier said than done. Mind you, we have NEVER critiqued the parenting of any of you currently reading this blog.
We have been fortunate that these screaming incidents have only taken place in the comfort of our own home thus far. But alas, we are headed to Grandpa Richard and Grandma Mikki's this Christmas for four days, so the rest of the Gimlin family could witness it firsthand for themselves.
Having said all this, however, Kendry is still an amazingly content baby. When the screams subside and we can hear ourselves think, we believe we are quite blessed.
Kendry in his Christmas best:
Three Gimlin generations goofin around:
For those who don't know, my dad is a truck driver in Alaska. And no, that is not his truck in the picture above. Here I am with him in August 2007 at Hilltop truck stop, which is just north of Fairbanks. We are standing in front of the load he was hauling to Prudhoe.
It has become a tradition for Justin and I to meet my dad for breakfast at Hilltop when we visit Alaska. Even though Kendry wasn't eating solid food last summer, he still got to tag along for an authentic truck stop breakfast. Hilltop is where Justin proposed to me in 2005 - of course, when we were meeting my dad for breakfast before he headed north.
My pops recently shared his thoughts and knowledge for a magazine article about the reality show "Ice Road Truckers":
2. A business I drive past on my way to work each day has a sign that reads: “How Can I Make This a Happier Christmas?” I hope we all take the time to consider and act on that thought.
He likes it!
Then he got distracted by a present...