The Tantrums

The following conversation is not imagined but rather inferred.

Me (singing): Poniendo los pantalones, pantalones, pantalones.
Animalia giggles.
Me (singing): Poniendo los calcetines, calcetines, calcetines.
Animalia giggles again.
Me: ¡Manitas pa'rriba!
Animalia complies happily.
I take off her shirt to replace it with a clean one.
Animalia screams: MOTHER. I DO NOT WANT TO WEAR A SHIRT TODAY. ONLY PANTALONES AND CALCETINES. PERHAPS ZAPATOS. PERO NO QUIERO UNA CAMISA. NO. NO. NO.



Right after her first birthday she started throwing these tiny little frustrated tantrums. I've read that it's right developmentally, no big deal, but damn. They only last a minute or so, sometimes less, but still. Damn. She just TELLS me but good. Sometimes she throws herself backward and if I'm right next to her, I'll grab her and lower her tiny little head to the ground where she'll proceed to roll back and forth for a minute until she's not as mad anymore. This also happens when we take something away from her. You know, like a dime or a button or something else tiny and potentially hazardous. Sometimes, unconciously, we take something away from her that isn't hazardous and she gets mad before we realize that we took a spoon or a cheerio, something totally safe. Sometimes she finds an errant cheerio on the ground and puts it in her mouth and we see her chewing and automatically sweep the mouth only to get smooshy cereal on our fingers and a guilty look from the Animalia that says, "What the hell?! Why did you force my papa out of my mouth? I was eating!" And then she screams and we feel bad and give her whatever it was we mistakenly took away and also we apologize. Profusely. Because she's rolling around on the floor and at that particular moment, we could have avoided it by not taking our eyes off of her for a second and knowing, somehow, maybe telepathically, that it was indeed JUST A CHEERIO.