My 3-Year-Old Has Lovely Cleavage

Siblings stand to learn a lot from each other... both good and not so good. This can present a special challenge when all three of your children have some unique behaviors to share with the family.

For instance, Broadway sometimes has issues with impulse control, predisposing him to making rather loud exclamations every now and again. Iraq, on the other hand, is given to frequent meltdowns, sending her off into a volley of noisy tears at the drop of the hat. And then there's The Skink... quietly watching and learning all the behaviors she sees.

In the past, I've caught her pacing back and forth with a toy phone to her ear, just as I do at times. She'll also share a book with her plush toys, just as her teacher does at school. Lately, however, there are some other behaviors she's been copying. Some that I'm not really thrilled about.

Though The Skink's language skills have been developing quite nicely over the last two years, lately instead of asking nicely for her cup, she will suddenly yell "CUP!" at the top of her voice. It reminds me very much of how Broadway sometimes exclaims "WOW!" in a loud voice in response to something funny on the television. When I admonish The Skink for yelling, she will hold her finger up to me (in the "wait a moment" pose) and lecture me in that same drill sergeant voice. Yes, it's true. I've been put on "finger hold" by a 3-year-old and given a piece of her mind!

So of course when I get that 15-year-old-type back talk from my generally sweet tot, I put her in time out. Time out is no easy task with any 3-year-old, let alone one with a few little challenges and a naturally stubborn nature. Time out means that as the jail-keeper, I have to stand right there with her and enforce the "sit right there" part of the time out.

On The Skink's especially stubborn days, I have had to resort to marching her up to her room and shutting her in it. She can't open the door by herself yet, so I win... sort of.

At this point, everything she has learned from living with Iraq comes into play. We are talking about a temper tantrum of terrorist proportions!! She has watched and learned well. She employs the "lay on the floor and kick your feet" method like an old pro, and her "fake-screech-cry at the top of your lungs" routine could win her a Tony Award. Then there's the "beat your little fists against the door while yelling at mom at about 3,000 decibels" thing that seems to make the whole house rattle.

When she goes into the "copy your sister's meltdown" mode, I generally walk away breathing deeply and telling myself that this stage won't last forever. And, generally within a few minutes, The Skink's room becomes quiet again and I'll creep up the stairs and quietly open the door to find her happily playing with some of her toys.

Ahhhh, motherhood!

I can also enjoy the irony in life. There was a time I struggled with infertility. It took over two years to create Broadway, and there is an 8 year and 2 husband lag between him and Iraq. In those looooooonnnnnggg 8 years I had regular talks with the Good Lord Above, and I told G-d that "I would do ANYTHING for another baby!"

I get the feeling He (or She) is holding me to that promise!

But along with every negative one can find about raising children, there are at least 1,000 positives. As a preemie, The Skink never got to breast feed. As much as she loved mommy, she developed a very close bond with a rather well-endowed nurse in the NICU. Since then, she has always been very drawn to breasts. I have the teeny-tiny type of itty-bitty titties which automatically makes my chest far less interesting than any woman with real BOOBIES! We're in the process of trying to teach her that there are certain appropriate ways to reach out and touch someone that don't include greeting a new friend with a free breast exam. But... her fascination continues.

This morning she was happily playing about the house (we didn't need a single time-out before the bus came) and she disappeared for short while in her toy closet in her room. After a few minutes she apparently found the two cloth bean-bag balls she was looking for and came down stairs looking like this:

Yes, that's my sweet little Skink with blue cleavage. Pretty good boob-job for a 3-year-old!
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