Simon has recently entered into Being Two with … more vigor. Most notably, at the dinner (and breakfast, and lunch) table.

Simon’s always been a picky eater, but lately he’s added to that the idea that the best way to reject certain morsels — or even to announce to everyone that meal time is over, right now — is to throw his food on the floor.

There is a certain sensibility to this, of course. Food down on the floor certainly isn’t going to be eaten by anybody, and throwing it down there conveys a sense of finality far greater than merely signing “all done” (especially since Simon’s “all done” is not infrequently followed up by his continuing to nosh; perhaps he thinks the sign merely indicates a pleasant fullness).

We’ve tried several ways to address this, at first with varying types of punishment. Which met with varying types of failure. Simon is every bit his Papa’s child, and more than a few times after a punishment was enforced, Simon would merely stare me in the eye as if to say, “Oh, is that all?” And then I’d stare back at him as if to say, “Um, yeah. I was kind of hoping for a show of remorse, or at least annoyance, here.” (It’s a very complex stare.)

So, failing all that, we’ve shifted tactics and are now attempting outright bribery. Again, like his Papa, Simon loves him a chocolate chip or thirty. So we’ve taken to offering him a few of them at the end of dinner, provided that his food stays off the floor.

And, as is our wont, we have set this proposition to music. Simon frequently enjoys signing along, even if he infrequently enjoys fulfilling his part of the deal.

In the somewhat unlikely case anybody feels the need to use this music in their own family (or for their next hit single) it is also available as a PDF.

We make up a lot of songs at our house. I often find myself pondering how the lyrics would translate to prose. To wit:

Great Big Belly
Your belly is large, and your tush is small. Your nose is smaller than the rest of your head. For the small size of your baby toes, your toenails are larger than I would have thought probable. These things, and others, make you my special baby.

The Burping Song
If you have air trapped inside, and I think you do, now is the time to let it out. No matter if you think your burp is too small to matter, or too large to release in mixed company, I assure you we will all feel better afterward. I know because I’m your mom.

The Stink Police
The stink police are surveilling our residence and will probably find you out. But don’t worry. They don’t give citations, just baths, which you like. Also, Papa and I are the stink police.

Tell Your Mom
If you see a mouse in the house, don’t take matters into your own hands. It won’t go how you are expecting. No, tell your mom and she will kill it.

Things Simon likes:

• Looking at the mirror on the floor at the correct angle to see Mama or Papa sitting behind him.
• Putting his elbow down Mama’s shirt.
• Mirror Baby — he grins really big, then turns away and shyly buries his face in my shoulder.
• Songs about the disproportionate sizes of his belly and rear end, while on the changing table.
• Rainbow-colored toys (caterpillar, stacking cups …) and bonking rainbow colored toys.
• Falling asleep on Mama’s chest.
• Playing with Papa when he gets home from work. By that time of day, Mama is old news.
• Sleeping for 8 hours at a time at night.
• Songs involving fake sneezes. Thanks to Kirsten for discovering that one.
• Staying up late past his bedtime to play.

Things Simon hates:

• Doctors looking in his ears.
• Falling asleep in his crib (but staying asleep,  now that’s okay!)
• Not facing the action.
• Swallowing his Zantac.
• Waiting more than 20 seconds for his food.