In the last couple of weeks, Squish has taken toddler-itis to whole new levels. I find myself looking at this little dude and asking “Who are you, pod person, and where is my Squish?” It has been a struggle to, as the experts say, find his currency. Unless that currency is small unmarked bills, which is about the only thing I hadn’t tried. Until yesterday. They were a gift from God, or at least from one of the kids in the youth group at church. Yellow jellybeans. And they are magic beans.
I have mentioned before that no one beats Squish at savoring treats. He keeps them as a pet. Today, he carried around his little bag of lemon beans for several hours. Oh, the power! All that was required to nip the naughtiness in the bud were the words “Do I need to take your jellybeans until you can make better choices?” I could have asked the kid to walk across fire, and he would have. As long as jellybeans were waiting on the other side.
The treats worked so well that I want to buy more, but I know it’s a slippery slope. If I let the bean habit continue, where does it end? I can hear the conversation now:
Squish: Mom, I just got expelled from the university for a hazing prank.
Me: That’s it, son. I am taking your jellybeans back until you untangle that kid’s underpants from the flagpole and let him down.
But for now I’m so tempted to stick with the beans. At least until after Easter.