No, we don’t have a problem with fruit rage here.

Nor are we singing some kind of strangely demented alphabet song where the next lines are Compassionate Dates, then Enraged Fennel.

Indeed, we are talking about my second favorite aspect of toddler parenting (after all those gooey and delicious expressions of love): the toddler malapropism.

For example, in Noah’s world, the lyrics to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” include the line, “Like a Dinah in the sky.”

From his perspective, it makes perfect sense. We have a book about a very shiny train named Dinah. Whereas he has very little exposure to diamonds.

But even more adorable than that are the names of two little girls in Noah’s day care class: Angry and Banana.

Their parents think their names are Avery and Savannah. But not their classmates. These two year olds are, for the most part, pretty articulate and smart. And they know a lot of words. Like Angry. And Banana.

Something to think about as we contemplate girls names.

We are up to our eyeballs — well, really closer to our hip bones — in willful toddler.

Today, just for example, Noah:

• Refused to have his diaper changed this morning when he woke up;
• Refused to brush his teeth;
• Refused to put on his shoes to leave;
• Clung to me with much fury and anguish when I tried to leave day care;
• Refused to take off the construction hat when I came to pick him up from day care;
• Threw the construction hat (luckily not at anyone);
• Lay down and refused to leave day care;
• Refused to eat a single bite of dinner, declaring “I no like noodles and broccoli” — two of his favorite foods;
• Demanded instead cherries and grapes, and repeated the demand approximately 40 times — to which we answered 40 times that he could have cherries and grapes after he had some noodles and broccoli;
• (Incidentally, the net result of this is that for dinner he had 2 cups of watery apple juice and some graham crackers in the car on the way home from day care.)
• Refused to go upstairs to get ready for bed;
• Refused to have his diaper changed;
• Refused to brush his teeth; and
• Hid from Jill when she went to go pick him up and brush his teeth for him, til she was sufficiently annoyed that she removed the glider rocker and ottoman from his room so he couldn’t hide behind them anymore.

Note that I didn’t count anything on this list that he merely declined to do on the first or second request, but ultimately agreed to do without screaming or throwing anything. Like pick out a new t-shirt for bed, or select a story to read. And unlike this weekend, there was no hitting or painful headbutting.

We already try to do things like 5, 2, and 1 minute warnings when we’re going to go do something else, but mostly those seem to occur to Noah like challenges to get warmed up with the defiance. Distraction works fabulously, when we’re able to get his attention. But at least half the time, as soon as we try, he starts yelling “No, Mommy, no!” and sometimes continues it to “Stop talking, Mommy!”

After consulting with some other moms, I ordered the book 1-2-3 Magic from Amazon. And also a timer that has both sound and light warnings so we can start giving him more information on how much time is left for things.

I’m open to other ideas too. I liked the Alfie Kohn books, but they just don’t seem pragmatic for toddlers with working parents. Noah has brought out depths of patience that I never previously imagined existed in me, but they don’t go far when he’s trying to run away in a parking lot, hitting me, or making me late for work.

And just so I don’t paint a complete picture of Noah as devil spawn, let me assure you that the deliciously sweet is actively present too. For example, tonight Noah:

• Sang the ABCs, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to his baby sister and gave her kisses;
• Kissed boo-boos on This Mommy’s elbow and my leg; and
• Cuddled close and charmingly while we read stories at bedtime.

Liza: Reaches up and scratches her head. What’s that in my hair? Feels around experimentally. Is that a bandaid?

Jill: Turns, then gets up and comes to look. Starts laughing hysterically. That’s motherhood in a nutshell!

They begin attempting to disentangle the bandaid from Liza’s hair.

Liza: Wait!

Jill: You want me to take a picture?

They both giggle uncontrollably. Jill takes a picture, then a second picture. While Liza looks at the picture, Jill returns to her computer.

Liza: Mommy? I still want you to take the bandaid out of my hair.

They both resume laughing, hard. Approximately two minutes later, Jill successfully frees the bandaid from Liza’s hair.

Jill: Yup. Motherhood in a nutshell. It feels good to laugh, though, doesn’t it?

Seriously, I almost feel like Noah is reverting to newbornhood.

Yesterday when I picked him up from day care, he sobbed, threw himself on the ground, and didn’t want to leave. He calmed down in the face of bribery, provided kindly (to me) by another toddler parent — but then when the bribe cookies ran out, he went right back to hysteria.

I’m glad he likes it, but I could really deal with less crying.

This morning, Noah cried hysterically after waking up, demanding his breakfast instantly. But then refusing to let me change his overnight diaper — to the point of hitting me and earning an (even more hysterical) time out. Then again about going to day care. He didn’t stop crying until we were half-way there.

This afternoon, he cried about leaving again. So much that I had to pick him up, carry him to the car, and wrestle him into the car seat. He continued sobbing that he wanted to go to “Miss Shirley’s house” until we were about 6 blocks from home. Then he just whimpered it until we were inside the house and he got distracted by his train table.

More crying at bedtime, and again and again after bedtime.
Enough. Already. Please.

I hope you had fun on your birthday, Grandma!

Noah got very excited about soap in the bathtub tonight.

Normally, soap has been something to be barely tolerated except for the fact of it producing bubbles which can be scooped up and blown into the air. But tonight, he washed his own hair. Well, patches of it. Six or seven times. And soaped up his belly even more than that.

After the 4th or 5th time, Jill spelled me for some tub duty time. When I came back into Noah’s room, he was shrieking with giggles. They’d figured out a way to make the squirting toy fish squirt bubbles, and Noah thought this was the Best. Thing. Ever. Even when he accidentally squirted himself in the face.

Is there anything better than listening to your child and your spouse practically collapsing in raucous laughter?

We had an action packed and fun-filled weekend — excessively fun and action packed, actually.

On Saturday morning, we tried to go to the playground, but it was raining. So Noah and I went to the grocery store where he got to drive in a car cart, and firmly rejected the free balloon he was offered.

Then all three of us went to the museum, to a new exhibit about penguins and polar bears.

The exhibit had 3 awesome costume related areas, but this was the only one where we remembered that we had a cell phone camera. Fortunately, it was also the very best one.

Theoretically, you were supposed to hold a penguin egg on your feet and walk it from one basket-nest to the next, in the costume (complete with penguin feet). Noah just liked wearing the costume and playing with the eggs.

There were also polar bear paws, and a front-padded penguin suit for sliding down a penguin slide on your belly. Noah loved those too, but we don’t have any pictures of that. Yet. We’ll be back.

After a nice long Saturday afternoon nap, we went to a going away party for a family at church. Darn all those academic theologians, always getting jobs and moving away. It was at a huge park, and unfortunately, had to be moved from where it was originally supposed to take place. We walked a LOT looking for it.

Fortunately, we eventually found it. Noah and the other toddlers and preschoolers “played baseball” with a few of the parents. And I was struck anew by the large number of little blond boys. Noah is the youngest of them, but the others are only 4-8 months older than he is. And since he’s such a giant, they all look the same.

There *are* children who aren’t little blond boys. But there’s not a set of them who all look the same.

Home for pizza, bath, and bed, thank goodness. I crashed shortly after Noah, but Jill got caught up in a Degrassi: The Next Generation marathon and was up until something like 1:30 am.

Today’s big event was another WNBA game. Unfortunately, Noah refused to nap between church and game time, so he was Mr. Clingypants at the game. And he began begging to go home shortly before the end of the first half.

Even though we were at the game with friends, including this adorable little charmer:

I took him home, and once we got in the car at the subway station, I offered the choice between home and ice cream. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” Five minutes later, Noah was sound asleep in his car seat. I had ice cream myself, and then read in the car while Noah slept, until Jill got back from the game.

Apparently the second half was better, but the Dream has still now tied the “worst opening record in WNBA history” with an 0 - 13 record.

And like the Dream, I’m going to crash.