After flossing (my second favorite activity), I would sit on the bathroom counter with my feet in the sink, holding my big dinosaur cup over the faucet while Mommy turns on the water. It’s always a bonus whenever I can quickly move the cup away just so the water splashes on my feet. Delightful. Of course, Mommy immediately turns off the water and teases about my wet pants.
It’s a little game we play.
Mommy then opens a green bottle, letting the refreshing smell of mint swirl into my nostril. Ah, The Precious Mouthwash. Together, we would pour a very teeny, tiny amount of Mouthwash into her small cup.
Then we look into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, as if speaking in a silent language and say in harmony, “Cheers!” raising our cups for good luck.
“Spit it out, don’t drink it,” Mommy warns me every time.
As usual, I nod. But proceed to drink the water as fast as I could before she tears the cup away from me.
“Plat,” I would fake a spit and give her a big grin.
Mommy, on the other hand, takes a swig from her cup. For a few moments, the Mouthwash stays in her mouth, not going down nor coming out.
My hands vibrate as I place them on her cheeks, feeling every swish.
As if stuck in a wormhole, it bounces around, forming larger and larger bubbles until it overflows. “Haha!” I laughed as I popped the bubbles in her mouth. My favorite part!
Finally, Mommy decides to spit out the green, foamy liquid. I watch it sizzle down the drain—what a waste.
Mouthwash, like toothpaste, is meant to be swallowed.
Ever since 10-months-old, the Parents misused my uncontrollable laughter when being tickled to brush my teeth. With my mouth wide open, Mommy would sneak in and scrub my mere six teeth so hard that she might as well sand wood.
Finally, we made a deal – I will brush my teeth if I can floss afterwards.
I can still remember my first successful flossing attempt.
As usual, I ran to the brushing station and pointed at the three glistening toothbrushes on the counter, shouting, “Mama, Dada, Me!” As if they have woken from a spell, they floated towards my command with Mommy’s help.
After gnawing at my toothbrush, I carefully picked up a floss pick and watched Mommy closely as she puts one in her mouth, all the while looking at the mirror.
I took a deep breath and attempted to do the same.
Nope, the floss is lying flat; it needed to be upright.
Nope, I missed my mouth entirely.
Argh! Why did she make it look so easy?
Unlike the previous nights, I refused to give up.
Nope, too far to the right. What is wrong with my clumsy fingers? How is it that when I moved my hand one way but the hand in the mirror moves the other, aren’t they supposed to like… mirror?
Pluck.
The sound vibrated in my mouth. Ahha! The floss pick string is in between my teeth. It may have taken a total of 248 attempts during my short lifetime, but I finally got it!
“Good job, Izzy. Look, Daddy. She’s flossing!”
I proudly smiled at the latest accessory in my mouth, the green pick dangling over my lips as if, it too, is having a victory dance.
Introduction: In mid-February 2021, Texas got hit with the coldest winter in 30 years, dropping the temperature from 60F to 0F, leaving 2.8 million people in Texas without power, heat, or water. Below is a story of 2-year-old Izzy’s experience.
“It was 60 degrees this morning! How did it drop to 15 already!?” exclaims Mommy as she pulls another sweater over me.
“We need to conserve gas. We can run the generator for another 30 minutes. Let’s quickly eat,” said Daddy.
We gather around the table, our feet welcoming the space heater’s warm breath.
Mommy points at the flames igniting from the portable gas burner on the dining room table and sternly said, “Hot. No Touch.” She then starts shoveling noodle soup in my mouth as fast as I could swallow. What is the rush!?
Daddy handed Mommy a flashlight and said, “I’m turning off the generator. Let’s gather your stuff and head to the bedroom. Remember, keep the door closed to keep warm.”
“Ion King?…mote mote” I point at the remote, my usual reward for finishing my plate.
“I’m sorry, Izzy, there’s no electricity right now; we can’t watch TV today.”
I look at her, astonish. I am two years old, not dumb.
The lights are on; there is electricity. Before I could protest, a snap echo in the room. Then darkness swallows the living room whole. Suddenly, I can hear the wind crawling through the gaps, whispering in the silence.
I grab Mommy’s legs, yelling, “cared cared!”
“It’s okay, Izzy. Don’t be scare. Mommy is here.” Mommy picks up baby Dora on the swing. Together, we walk carefully down the hallway illuminated by her flashlight.
We turn into the master bathroom. “Izzy, after we brush our teeth, you get to blow out the candles,” she points at the flickering white block on the table.
Ooo, I love blowing out candles.
But first, brush teeth – ugh, flossing is so much more fun (link).
After swallowing the last of the toothpaste in my mouth, I hum “happy birthday to me” and take one final glance at our shadows dancing along the walls. “Pffftt!” The flames dissipate. Nice, all the practice had paid off, blew it out in one shot.
Then it dawns on me. Did she turn off the electricity and heat just to make me go to bed early!? Tricky Tricky. I will not allow it. It is 2 hours before my usual bedtime.
I cannot let them win; else, I will lose precious playtime after dinner forever.
“No!” I yell. Sitting on the floor, I put together the zebra puzzle for the eighth time today.
When I finish the puzzle, I glance over at the parents on the bed, their eyes drooping in the dim light. My gaze moves to the baby in the crib, already asleep – successfully tricked.
I yawn. Oh no! I can’t sleep yet.
I rub my eyes. The dark is overpowering me.
One can only play the same puzzle so many times.
Crawling over Daddy’s limp body, I collapse in between the parents on my pillow. Even after wearing four layers, it feels like it is getting colder with every passing minute.
Just tonight. I will let them win just tonight. I snuggle closer against Mommy’s back, stealing her warmth. In the end, all that matters is that we are together. All of us, in the same room – Daddy, Mommy, Dora, and I.
Note to the Reader:
Having been without hot water, electricity, heat, and hot food at below zero temperatures for 51 hours made me realize a lifestyle change is needed. Climate change is real. Living in the USA, we are spoiled with these cheap essentials leading to overconsumption of our natural resources. This experience was scary, but it was only for two days while our future generations may suffer for the rest of their lives. Studies have predicted we will have limited clear water and clean air by 2050.
I implore you to learn more about climate change and about how we can reverse the impacts as an individual and a civilization. Some actions I will be taking are:
Taking a shorter shower to use less water
Installing solar panels or LED lights to use less energy and lower the electricity bill
Eating less meat (methane gas from animals is ~10% of the greenhouse gas emissions)
Buying used instead of new products (save more money along the way)
Kick kick kick. Wake up! Wake up! It is 2 AM. I’m hungry! The lifeless body didn’t budge.
Kick kick kick. Swinging my arms around, I tried to pivot on my back towards Mommy lying next to me. At two-months-old, moving for any distance is a challenge.
Kick kick kick. Oh, I just kicked something. Most likely the hip.
Kick kick kick. As if jumping on a sideways trampoline, I pushed hard on the rib cage. She stirred.
A second later, fingers started feeling around my face. No dummy! I want milk, not a face massage. “Wahhh!”
The fingers found the pacifier buried in my neck and shoved it back in my mouth. I closed my eyes. Satisfied.
Suck suck suck. When is the milk coming?
Suck suck suck. You tricked me!
Kick kick kick. Time to feed me. The pacifier fell out of my mouth as I started wailing.
“Okay, okay, I’m up,” still half-asleep, Mommy got off the bed and turned on the light.
I only have to kick her 15 times tonight before getting a response. Perhaps Daddy will do better when he takes the next shift.
Calm down, Parents! It has only been five days since my last bowel movement. I can handle this. I let out a grunt as they pump my legs and massage my belly on the changing table.
“Looks like we don’t have a choice; her stomach is bulging. Let’s get the suppository ready,” said Daddy grimly.
“But she’s only 2-months-old,” Mommy murmured.
Wait, what’s a s..s…s.. sup…tory?
Mommy held a small, white container and a few towels in her hand while Daddy started taking off my diaper. She handed a clear, short rod to Daddy. Okay… this does not seem like my usual diaper change. Can anyone tell me what’s going on?!
They both took a deep breath. I, on the other hand, held my breath as something tickled my butt.
I exhaled as it glides in my butthole.
Ah! It is going to eat me from the inside out! I squeeze my butt muscles, plop, it slid out. I have to get away before it comes back. As if running a marathon, I quickly kicked my legs up and down. Unfortunately, it is a futile effort as I am still on my back.
Mommy grabbed my legs. “You’re okay, Dora,” she gently kissed my forehead as I felt that thing crawling in my butthole again. I squeezed my butt muscles. This time, it stays put… inside. I glanced at Mommy, then at Daddy.
Their concerned expressions matched mine; we were all waiting for someone to make the next move.
After a few moments, I felt a rumble. Then, as if the floodgates opened down there, I unconsciously contracted my abs and pushed. Hard.
“I need wipes, quick!” exclaimed Daddy as I felt the pressure slowly dissipating in my stomach. While the Parents frantically wipe my bottom, I pushed again. It was so satisfying, like squeezing toothpaste.
Let’s make this more fun.
I tilt my head slightly to get a glimpse over my knees, and as if aiming with a water gun, I let out a final push.
Splat. “It’s on the wipes dispenser!” both Parents yelped this time. Aww, man, that is only a foot away. I was hoping it would hit the crib across the room. As Daddy bundled me up to get ready for a nice, warm bath, I saw the traces left behind on the changing table, clothes, and lotion bottle. My first masterpiece.
Update one month later:
I am proud to announce that I had gone up to eight days straight without having a bowel movement AND the doctor said it is normal. Finally, after five more unsuccessful opportunities to aim at the crib, the parents dropped the suppository method and gave me a few drops of prune juice every day instead. It was pretty effective, just not as fun.
