The Reinstatement of Kisses and Tickles

Photo: This photo has nothing to do with the words below. It does, however, prove that I am killin’ it with my grill! You see that perfectly grilled ribeye over there!? Those grill marks on the homemade tortillas?? What?? Tonight? Fried rice with marinaded chicken and Taiwanese-style sausage. Yes, you should be jealous.


I am going to start out this blog post by saying I don’t know how long it is going to be because my house is a freaking mess and I must needs clean it! Seriously, I know that little missives on Facebook and frilly things on Pinterest would lead me to believe that sticky floors and messy rooms are a sign of a home well lived in… but to me it is just a sign that I haven’t been doing my job. Laundry needs to be folded. Rugs need to be vacuumed, floors need to be swept. After this post.

Which will be short. Because the boys, despite a good morning of running around on the playground, aren’t napping. So, you know… whoopie for me!

I wrote earlier this summer that Ursa Major had decided to put a prohibition on kisses. No parent (Not even his favorite, daddy) was to give him kisses and he, even with much begging and pleading, refused to give out his own kisses. This was very sad for me because my first instinct when getting him out of the crib in the morning is to plant a big fat kiss on his cheeks. I’m pretty sure I’ve done it since he was born. Who doesn’t want to kiss a baby’s cheeks? But, he’s getting to be a big kid (this child put on his own pull-up and pants all by himself with no help yesterday. I watched him do it! Oh my God!), so I have tried my best to be respectful of this rules. It just seems like the right thing to do. He is his own person and he is trying to take ownership of his own body, and that’s important.

Well, just abruptly as it started, Ursa Major decided that the prohibition was over. It happened while he was sitting on the potty (We’ve mastered number one, so I’m doing my best to get him to do number two…) and Ursa Minor decided to sit in my lap while we waited. When Ursa Minor sits in my lap, I can’t help myself–there are much tickles and kisses and squeezes and playing with toes. Well, we were having too much fun it would seem, because Ursa Major (still on the potty, mind you) just perks up and says, “I want kisses! I want kisses and tickles, too!”

And I had to stop and look at my son, because, well, I had to be sure.

“What? I thought you said that you don’t like kisses??”

This is classic jealous three-year-old: “Well, I do like kisses. Yup, I do. I want kisses and I want tickles!”

Now, I’m not gonna lie: I didn’t really believe him. I thought he was just looking for an excuse to stop sitting on the potty. He’d made a big fuss about stopping play to go up the stairs and sit there. He’s convinced himself that he can’t do the number two… very annoying. So I didn’t really want to give him a free pass to get off. But, after a few more minutes went by with nothing else happening, I decided to let him down and wash his hands. We got the pull-ups on him and some pants and then, like magic:

“Can I have kisses and tickles now?”

Why yes, dear child. Yes you may! 

Now, of course, there is a price for this. There is always a price for this, as I have two boys who are clearly in competition with each other. One baby cannot get kisses and tickles unless the other baby also gets kisses and tickles. It is also very important that said kisses and tickles are delivered at the same time. Which is a challenge because, first, I’m not really into rough-housing. That’s what daddy is for. Second, they don’t seem to watch out for each other, so there is always the inevitable head knocking and tears. Third, why does everything have to be a competition all the time?

I’m not going to complain too much, because it feels like all is right in the world. He got to take his stand and have it respected, but I, in the end, got my kisses back. Huzzah for a happy parenting moment!

Now, if I could just get one good peaceful day on the playground with no incidents or managing moments…

Hmm… maybe I’ll save that for my Quiet Thoughts.

It’s a very cool day ere in Massachusetts. It was in the 40s outside when I woke up this morning! And yes, the leaves are responding, too… that deep summer green is starting to yield so some lighter shades, some spots and, dare I say it, some yellows! What!? You know what that means, right? Little children going back to school, houses back on schedule, and amazing Starbucks Pumpkin Lattes. I. Cannot. Wait!!

See you Friday for Quiet Thoughts!


5 Comments Add yours

  1. Britt says:

    Potty training sucks hard. And my boys were the WORST. Neither one was really trained until 3 and a half. I swore I’d be chasing them down the marriage aisle sniffing their butts for tell tale accidents.

    But this parenting snapshot is delightful. So many of the moments you capture are the ones I remember slogging through… and in retrospect, wish I’d had a mommy like you next door to make me a ribeye.


    1. K.C. Wise says:

      Major is 3 and a half and he is NEVER gonna be potty trained! NEEEEVVVVEEERRRR!!!!!!!

      *pulls out ALL of my hair*

      Ok ok ok ok…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the freak out just then. Gonna get it together.

      I HATE potty training! By far the most ANNOYING thing about parenting! If I ever have another baby, I’m gonna do something totally and radically different. Like, no diapers or something. Aren’t there cultures that don’t do this diaper thing? I feel like we just set ourselves up for ULTIMATE STRESS during toddlerhood. I swear to God, if I had stupid money, I’d pay someone a ridiculous amount of money to potty-train my kids. Seriously. No sports cars, no fancy houses, just potty-training.

      Or all ribeyes all the time. It was as good as it looks! Now I need one of those Margarita machines!

  2. You had me at “ribeye.” Make room; I’m moving in.

    1. K.C. Wise says:

      Hahaha. Rent is potty-training the boys. Just sayin’

      1. Dammit. I skipped class that day.

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