Meet Dalebert

It seems I'm becoming more and more of a pushover these days. At times I will do just about anything to keep Cale from fussing. From letting him play with cell phones (he's ruined 2 already), climbing in the fridge, playing with dad's dollar store reading glasses, chewing on Carl's electric toothbrush, to pulling all the pots and pans out of the cabinets...it seems sometimes I let him get away with murder. What's that I hear? You say I should discipline him? You say I should set some boundaries; let him know his limits? I totally agree, and always planned to be the super strict parent. But that was before; Before I was introduced to..."The Tantrum". It's shrill; It's nail-biting; ; It's cringe-worthy; It's something I would jump threw hoops to avoid; it's a skillset that my son has perfected and I can imagine will continue using in days to come. Did I say days? Probably years.

If you've been around my husband or I much at all, you know we have many names for Cale. Big Bert, Pooter, Cale-Bear, Bubba, Bug-burt...I don't know where they come from. Don't judge me, you do it too...right? You do...don't you? Out of all his strange nicknames, that will probably haunt him for the rest of his life, we most often we call him Calebert. But when tantrum time comes along, we like to say he's turned into his evil twin Dalebert. Trust me, Dalebert is not someone you want to meet. He's mean; He's scary; He gives me nightmares. Especially when he appears...in public. One night he showed up in Harps while I was waiting to check out, in what had to be the longest line ever. It was so bad, I started sweating and feeling a sense of panic. It was so bad that I finally got out of line and was going to put the items in my cart back because I didn't want to continue standing in line with a screaming baby, while everyone was staring at me. But, after getting out of line I decided that I couldn't let Dalebert run my life. So, I returned to the line, he continued to wail and flail, and I finally made it out with my groceries...sweaty, embarrassed, and vowing that I would never take Cale into a grocery store near his bedtime hour.

I always said I wasn't going to give Cale soda until he was a few years old. I don't really know why except for the fact that I'm addicted to caffiene and I know there's a good chance he will be too. I guess I wanted to keep him away from all that unneeded sugar/caffiene until he was a little older. But now that he's tasted Coke, thanks to his daddy, he's become a caffiene-driven monster. He has this incredible ability to know what cup has Coke in it and what cup doesn't. I don't know how, but he does.

I still try not to give Cale Coke often and I never put it in his sippy cup. But, occasionally when I have a Sonic drink and I sense the presence of Dalebert approaching, I cave...shamelessly.