police state

Step aside, NYPD, because Garrett is on the beat. Unfortunately, his desire for control has a tendency to complicate our lives. Here are just a few of the many capacities he has volunteered to serve in:

Prayer Police
Like a good Mormon boy, Garrett makes sure that we always remember to say our prayers, especially at mealtimes and before bed. "Beh, beh," he'll say, meaning, "Come on, guys, let's say a blessing," and then he'll fold his arms and [not-so] patiently wait for us do so as well. He doesn't actually say prayers himself yet, but as soon as Blake or I begin, he'll suddenly decide that he, as well as the rest of us, should be clasping our hands together instead of folding them. Rather than let his insistence evolve into a full-blown tantrum mid-prayer, we pause and shift our hands into the newly dictated position before continuing.

But a few second later Garrett will call out, "Eye! Eye!" meaning, "Everyone close their eyes now!" Up until then, they were closed -- well, perhaps not Garrett's, but rest assured that they are now. We pause again and try to hold in our chuckles as we peek at Garrett's tightly shut eyes, along with his scrunched up nose and gritted teeth.

"Amen," we say as we finally are able to finish the prayer, and "Deedoo, Ma," Garrett says, meaning "Thank you, Mom," as, depending on the situation, he either dives for his food or his silky blue blanket. I think I'd find these habits charming except that, after experiencing them several times a day, they are getting somewhat old.

Spice Rack Police
I have a spice rack on my kitchen counter that Garrett has recently adopted. He likes to take those tempting little spice-filled canisters off, then stack them up, roll them around on the floor, or stuff them in the microwave. And should my recipe call for a teaspoon of basil or oregano, heaven forbid I try to touch them. There is usually little point in arguing with my toddler -- and besides, letting him harmlessly play with the spices is an excellent distraction while I take care of preparing dinner. So until the day comes when he figures out how to unscrew the lids and actually sprinkle dried spices over everything instead of just pretending to, I think I'll let him continue to be in charge my spice rack.

Traffic Police
Recently Garrett has become a stroller-riding equivalent of a back seat driver. He is familiar enough with our neighborhood to know where things (like the playgrounds and the best store front window displays) are and which direction we should be going in order to get to them. On the one hand, I find this ability rather impressive, but on the other, it sure does make running errands a little more emotional.

For example, we reach a corner when suddenly there is frantic whining down in front. "What's wrong?" I ask Garrett, and in response I get more whining and pointing in a direction I'm not headed in.

"You want to go this way?" I say.

"Yeah," he replies.

"But we need to go this other way," I tell him.

"Noooo!!!" he screams.

"But don't you want to go home?" I try to reason with him. He nods in the affirmative, so I continue, "Well, home is this way, not that way."

"Noooo!!!" he screams again.

In the end I just have to take a deep breath and continue to head home my way, reminding myself as I do who is really in charge here.