Leif has a major fascination with me brushing my hair. He tries to brush his hair, but alas, he has so little it isn't fun. He likes to take the brush and try to help me as I blow dry my hair in the morning. But last night he went and got the brush and as I sat on the floor eating my tuna casserole (in hopes he would see how yummy it is and decide he wanted some too) he brushed my hair for me.
I am quite positive this is a 100% case of karma biting me in the ass. When I was a kid I LOVED doing my mom's hair everynight. I would sit on the back of the couch behind her and brush and brush, braid, twist, rat and put curlers in and "demand" that she sleep in the curlers so she would be gorgeous the next day. (She never did.) When she would not let me use water on her hair to make it style "right", I would resort to spitting in her hair (very quietly) as an alternative. Nice, huh?
Leif, at 14 months, is still learning the word "gentle". Starting the brush at the top of my head was, most of the time, more of a "whack" on my skull. Then he would PUUULLLL the brush through my hair. Thankfully I have fine hair and it flows through the brush easily. (One sentence I *never* thought I would say.) Occasionally the "whack" would start a little close to my eye, and so I put my glasses on. I thought momentarily about the fact that they were not "safety rated", but put it out of my head.
After about 10 minutes of this I was tired of the "whack" and PUUULLL. Ok, you might wonder why I tolerated it for 10 minutes. The reason... I was able to eat fairly uninterrupted and he loved it. I am a sucker for my son having a good time.
I took the brush away and tried redirection to about 10 random toys in the living room. Yes, TRU did explode there. I even redirected him to BOOKS! (His new favorite.) He declined. Finally I resorted to grabbing the brush and while he was looking the other way launching it into the master bedroom and then getting up and wandering, inconspicuously, to the room and shutting the door. Evidently I was not inconspicuous enough. Leif figured out the brush was gone, the door now shut. WAAAIIILLLL!
He goes to the door and wails, and he pounds on the door, then he wails some more. Ugh. Nothing was even equally interesting as brushing my hair. :-( My ears were now in pain from the wailing. Head in pain from "whack and pull" or ears from the wailing? Which is better?
I stuck to my guns. My hair did NOT need to be brushed anymore. I started his bath. Ha ha ha. That was not going to be an effective redirection either. He wailed in the bath, which he never does. He loves the bath. I got the sand from the sandbox semi-rinsed off of him while he was climbing out of the bath and up my body, nekid. Yes, climbing, and I don't have a climber (relatively speaking!). He grabbed my waistband of my pants and pulled up, grabbed the underwires (note - I am back baby!) in my bra and pulled up even further... Ugh.
Got him out, into pajamas somehow and calmed down with a bottle and off to bed he went.
Toddler in house? Get safety goggles, they aren't just for the lab anymore.
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