Smith Family Weblog

Today began with dental check-ups for the girls. It took Olivia quite a long time to warm up to the idea of sitting in the exam chair, but as this particular office caters to children, no one really rushed her.

She took her time brushing the scary-looking dentures in this dragon, saying over and over, “Dragon say ROOOOAAAAAAAR.”

She finally climbed in, dragon in hand.

She soon realized she could use the giant toothbrush as a weapon to protect herself against the dentist’s rather intrusive exam. Apparently, she’s quite secretive about her gum line and tartar buildup.

I ended up having to hold her, flipping her upside down into the dentist’s lap for the exam. Since it’s hard not to show off your teeth while screaming, the dentist got a pretty good look. She said that Olivia’s two-year molars were about 70 percent in, and we could expect them to be completely in another month or two.

I asked the dentist if the ADA had perhaps changed the recommendation on pacifier usage past age two. No luck.

She did say, though, it would be a bad idea to take away a pacifier from a teething toddler, so  we can wait at least a few more weeks. (And, speaking of bad ideas, I’m not sure I want to go cold turkey over the holidays, either. Maybe giving up the paci can be Liv’s New Year’s resolution.)

So while Olivia treated the office visit like a near brush with death, guess who was compliant as can be?

Hopefully next time Olivia will follow Ava’s great example.

Olivia keeps pretty close tabs on her big sister. Every morning, the very first thing she says is, “Where’s Ava?” We hear that question repeated any time Ava is out of her line of sight for more than a second or two.

For the first time in many years, I am not seeing eye-to-eye with my wonderful daycare provider. The issue? She put Olivia in time out.

It’s not that I’m opposed to time out—at our house, we call it “room time.” That way it can take place on another floor, and I don’t have to listen to the wailing that results.

But that’s for a four year old…not a baby.

And there’s the real issue: Apparently, Olivia is not a baby.

I went home and shared my frustration over the timeout with Bryan, and he had the nerve to point out that Olivia is almost two. In fact, he noted we should have been doing this for quite some time.

As I thought more, it occurred to me that I rarely tell Olivia no. I still rock her before bedtime. I allowed her to keep her pacifier at the mall yesterday. I am shocked at her relative size when I see her next to an infant.

In my defense, she is still so sweet and snugly and a bit dependent. She is easy going, sleeps more than the cat and loves  being held. Plus, they call her “Baby O” at daycare–how’s that for a contradiction?

I think, though, I am starting to understand that she really is a toddler. As I loaded her into her carseat this morning, she took my face in her hands and said, “You are so cute!”

Right back at you, baby…er, Olivia.