Nina In New York: Parenting For Dummies, Chapter 132: Toddlers Don't Get Sick Days

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Last week, I accidentally broke my kid. Not physically or in any abusive manner, far from it. My intentions were only kind. But the net effect was that I was fairly certain I'd ruined her and would have to simply push forward and resolve to do better with the next one.

Here's what happened: she got sick. Nothing scary or life-threatening. Just plain old, little kid sick. But she had an ear infection and accompanying fever, which to the uninitiated parent feels something like being dropped into a seething riot zone with nothing but . . . a tiny syringe of Children's Motrin. Hey there, friend, don't set fire to that post office! Here, open wide. It tastes like berries!

So for a while, she was out of commission. Eyes glazed over, exhausted but unable to sleep, besieged with what appeared to be extraordinary pain but without any of the understanding or coping mechanisms a person develops with age. Naturally, the antidote was to let her do whatever she wanted all the time. Watch Dora? Sure, kid. In mommy's bed? Why, where else? More Dora? Yeah, okay. Eat chocolate instead of lunch? Well at least she's eating something! No, you don't have to eat it at the table, the couch is good. Here, smear some more on that dry clean only throw pillow. More Dora? Well . . . only because you're sick. What else could I do with her? Every kid gets to lie in bed and live like Cleopatra when she's sick. We just had to get through the day. It's just a few days. Right? Right??

No. Just, no. No no no no no. Like all dopey mistakes committed by first time parents, I'm sure this sounds completely inane and obvious to everyone else, but I had to figure it out the hard way. Perhaps an 8-year-old can comprehend the subtleties of "only because you're sick." A 2-year-old, as it turns out, invented the concept of taking a mile when given an inch. It just so happens that if you'd like to turn a sweet, happy, occasionally recalcitrant little baby into a seething, monstrous, unstoppable rage-tornado, all you have to do is suspend use of the word "no" for four or five days.

Suddenly, I wasn't sure whether to go to the pediatrician for antibiotics or to the church for a quick exorcism. Maybe both? She's not herself yet, I'd say to myself. She's still in pain. She still feels crummy. When it became clear that her health was on the upswing and her attitude was still plummeting into the depths of Hell, I realized it was all my fault. Now, every slight request for compliance was an opportunity to be exploited. Diaper change? Watch Dora. Shoes on? Watch mommy's iPad. Lunchtime? Cookie. On the floor. In your bed. Watch Dora. Watch. WATCH WATCH WATCH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I finally learned the true meaning of the word "tantrum."

A week of amateur behavioral training/deprogramming later, I now realize that as easily as I was capable of destroying my toddler's happiness and adjustment level, it doesn't take long to undo the damage. Not that I plan on repeating this mistake, but at least now I don't have to get pregnant again right away.

For anyone who has ever doubted the annoying, old parental adage that "children like limits," I invite you to spend one day with my kid when she's hopped up on Nick Jr. and personal freedom. You'll have to turn in any sharp objects and shoelaces at the door, of course. Emergency numbers are on the counter, food's in the fridge, don't use the stove I'll be back in twelve hours kbyegoodluckbye!

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!