Stubborn Trent

Trent really is the most stubborn child ever born.

He's a diva, too.  Whenever he gets upset he storms down the hallway with a vicious screech that turns into wailing sobs, chooses a bedroom, any bedroom, proceeds inside and slams the door.  Then he bawls and screams at the top of his lungs for as long as it takes for one of us to go back and get him.  Except, if the person who goes to retrieve him is the same person who ticked him off to begin with, (most often me), then the wailing and screaming starts all over again at an even louder pitch.  

So usually I send Cameron back to coax Trent out because Trent likes Cameron.  Cameron is the giver of piggy-back rides.  (How he manages that, I will never know, because Trent weighs the same as a baby elephant.)

More evidence that Trent is a major diva - today he was drinking Ethan's milk from a mug that Ethan left on the table.  When it was all gone, Trent brought the mug to me and grunted for a refill.  Instead, I handed him the sippy cup of milk that I had poured for him not half an hour ago, but he chucked it across the room and shoved the mug into my thigh.  OK, so the kid doesn't like sippy cups anymore.  I collected the sippy cup and poured it's contents into the mug and handed it to Trent.  He muttered a "da-da-da", which means "Thank you" in I'mTooStubbornToMimicWhatYouSay, and took a sip.  Then he looked at me with a scowl and tipped that mug of milk upside down, spilling the contents onto the kitchen floor.

I think he was unsatisfied with the temperature of his beverage.

Diva.

So now I'm rethinking his Halloween costume.

Anyway, back to the stubborn.

Today, Trent threw one of hits fits, slamming the door and screeching like a banshee.  He picked my room this time, and I'm fine with that as long as he stays out of my jewelry box.  And I think it's ok for him to go off on his own and vent his frustrations, so I left him in there for a while before attempting to get him to come out.  I went back once and knew it was a job for Cameron.

Cameron went back, followed by Drew, and emerged without a chunky toddler, but Drew came out crying with a three inch scratch on his back.  Don't mess with Trent.  Actually, it was my dresser that scratched him, but anyway...  

When we finally got the little turd to come out and stop crying over the injustice that was me not carrying him all the way down the hallway when I got him up from his nap, he sat on my lap and glared at anyone who came near.  But Drew, always helpful, decided to brighten Trent's mood with a Goldfish cracker.  He held it up to Trent, but Trent was not going to take it.  He wanted it, but he wasn't going to give in.  So Drew held it up to Trent's mouth and gently shoved it between Trent's lips.  And there it sat.  Trent wasn't going to spit it out, because he wanted it, but he wasn't going to comply with the Good Spirits Campaign that Drew was waging, either, so he couldn't bring it all the way into his mouth on his own.  

We let it sit there for a while.  Trent scowled and didn't budge.  We giggled and Trent didn't so much as crack a smile.  Finally, when drool started to run down Trent's neck, Drew pushed the cracker the rest of the way into Trent's mouth, and we had success.  A smile!

Stubborn little diva.