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The logic of a 2-year-old and other imaginary things

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The Northview
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By
Brenda Winter, columnist

And now they are 2.
The baby girls who became our granddaughters two years ago have had their birthdays — one in June and one in July. So the family is blessed with not one, but two, completely illogical people.
Webster defines logic as “a proper or reasonable way of thinking about something.”
A 2-year-old is not a logical creature, especially regarding property rights. We were about to cross the street. My daughter said to her daughter, “Can I hold your hand?” The two-year-old replied, “No. It’s mine.”
(Perhaps you have heard the rules of 2-year-olds? “If I have it — it’s mine. If you have it — it’s mine. If I want it — it’s mine. If you want it — it’s mine. If I had it yesterday — it’s mine. ...” You get the drift.)
And then there is, of course, potty training. But for an occasional accident, the firstborn two-year-old is almost done potty training. The second-born? Not so much.
As a caring and committed grandmother, I had the opportunity a few weeks ago to work on potty training with the one who isn’t. 
I offered her the chance to use the Big Girl chair right after her nap. Nothing happened — until we were washing our hands. (Suffice to say the bathroom floor, the front of the cupboard and the little step stool needed a good washing anyway.)
With a bare bum, the 2-year-old proceeded toward snack time and  — soaked her high chair. (It needed a good washing anyway.) 
But I’m no quitter, so we continued on bare-bummed to play time  — where she tinkled on a puzzle. She stepped on the damp puzzle and, with her feet wet, slipped on the tile floor and bumped her head.
Her father diapered her while I cleaned up the puzzle. (It needed a good washing anyway.)
As well as being potty trained, her cousin is “good at strategies.”
When this child has something she should not have — like a black marker, your phone, the dog’s water bowl, knives, ant poison, your laptop, your water bottle, a roll of tape, the folder of receipts from the desk drawer, a bottle of nail polish remover, or a hand full of candy — she “hides.”
Once, under my watchful eye, she took the decorations off the buffet and placed them on the floor. I was proud of her propensity to appreciate home decor until I realized she was building a blind. She sat behind the neatly arranged decorations to nibble on dog food.
This one also loves to dance. I’m trying to teach her to appreciate classic rock, but her favorite song continues to be “The Wheels on the Bus Go ‘Round and ‘Round” which I have to sing 47 times before each nap. Her little hands are still doing the motions as she drifts off.
Really, the best part of being a grandparent is seeing my own children as parents. I enjoyed my daughter schooling her toddler on the proper use of the word “uh-oh.”
“We do not throw something on the floor and then say ‘uh-oh,’’ she explained. “Saying ‘uh-oh’ is for accidents, not for after you intentionally throw something on the floor.”
(My daughter, an engineer, is logical, organized and practical. At work she manages a division of a steel company. People respect her opinions.)
Her 2-year-old looked at her with sparkling blue eyes, tossed the toy on the floor again, peered over the edge of her highchair, looked back at her mother and said, “uh-oh.”
If logic is “a proper or reasonable way of thinking about something,” I think the 2-year-olds still have a lot to learn. Of course, they might argue, so does the rest of the family.

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