Michael

Everyone handles stress differently.  I get that.  I'm open to a range of coping mechanisms.  There is the teeny, tiny possibility that we might be pushing EG a bit too far over the last week.

She started potty training.  That's a whole other entry to come, but let me say that the whole "no more diapers for me" breezy attitude she portrays on the exterior, is cracking.

Add to this, she starts a preschool program next week.  It isn't that many hours, nor am I making a BIG-First-Day-of-School deal out of it.  But again, while she may talk a big--two year old, I know how preschool goes because I've seen my brother go--game...I think she's a bit overwhelmed.

Enter Michael.

Over the weekend she declared that we all must call her Michael.  She would not respond to any of the traditional names we go by.  Not. One.  Only--Michael.  She began to refer to alter-ego in the third party.  "Michael needs to go potty.  GET OUT.  Michael can do it by himself."  After a while she did things she thinks Michael does.  Include "swimming" and "diving" off the couch (feet first--don't worry), going to school and riding a bike.  She also made her brother play the role of Michael's siblings.  (Because this is a real family, so we must be authentic in her mind.)  So, poor BB would alternate between going along with it and snapping at her.  I let his out bursts go because, Michael tested our 38 year old patience level...let a lone the 4 year old's.  Because....she really got into character...for hours at a time this would go on before a mild crack in the veneer, and EG would reappear.

When the crackling happened in "Michael's life" you could see us all hope that the phase had passed. "Whew, that's over."  (short patience levels here...as if a two year old will let anything this good go in a days time.)

Yesterday, BB called it quits.  In a fun unity front between BB and myself, we tag teamed EG most of the day.  "Only EG can ride in the new car seat."   "Oh, bummer, only EG can go outside."  "Oh, sorry...the neighbor kids want to play with EG..."  We made up all types of things only EG could do.

So she switched it up.  Ditching Michael, she became 'A Baby.'
(That turned out to not be any fun.  Especially, when I cuddled her and then told her babies can't move.  I set her down on the couch.  BB informed her that really new babies can't even turn over so she should just lie there if she wanted to be a "true" baby.  Bless his little soul.)

Then she became 'The Mommy.'  (yes, I am SURE 'the' is capitalized in her mind.)  This role required BB to be the baby.  After dinner last night, Saint BB was allowing EG/Michael/Baby/The Mommy to feed him his bedtime snack of water in a bottle** and crackers.  When he got off the chair, tired by the day, to mercifully head to his room, The Mommy bellowed from across the room.

"Baby, you crawl to bed. Babies crawl."

BB looked at his parents with a resigned expression, and said, "Ok, Michael...I mean, The Mommy.  Good. Night."



**It is his normal water bottle. I haven't completely lost my mind.