Sunday, August 15, 2010

When Toddlers Go Galt


Eric Hague always makes me laugh. He's chock fulla quotey goodness, too.

You see, that Elmo ball was Johanna's reward for consistently using the potty this past week. She wasn't given the ball simply because she'd demonstrated an exceptional need for it—she earned it. And from the way Aiden's pants sagged as he tried in vain to run away from our daughter, it was clear that he wasn't anywhere close to deserving that kind of remuneration. By so much as allowing Johanna to share her toy with him, we'd be undermining her appreciation of one of life's most important lessons: You should never feel guilty about your abilities. Including your ability to repeatedly peg a fellow toddler with your Elmo ball as he sobs for mercy.
Look, imagine what would happen if we were to enact some sort of potty training Equalization of Opportunity Act in which we regularized the distribution all of Johanna's and Aiden's potty chart stickers. Suddenly it would seem as if Aiden had earned the right to wear big-boy underpants, and within minutes you'd have a Taggart Tunnel-esque catastrophe on your hands, if you follow me.
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 Yes, she's blossomed into everything we ever hoped or post hoc rationalized she would. In our house we no longer say, "Who is John Galt?" Instead we say, "Who's our little princess?"
 from Flickr by Sabine75

Hah! I wish I'd thought of that when the Evil Twin was Terribly Horribly Two.

H/T: Dan Riehl and Pundit and Pundette

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