Gulping and Galloping

MILK MALAISE

My husband and I have survived probably the biggest disappointment in our parenting experience thus far. Our precious, wonderful little boy.... has developed an intolerance to milk.

I should start with a conversation with a friend of mine in our playgroup. We were at her house, discussing the introduction of milk into our little ones' diet. Her little boy had problems with digesting milk, and I was sympathizing and lamenting with her the fact that her sweet little boy wasn't going to be able to have any rich, creamy milk to enjoy for a while. Meanwhile, I was relieved and rejoicing that Jake seemed to love milk and drink it easily with no problems. Nevermind that this was only Day Two in his new relationship with the white stuff. As far as I was concerned, there was only smooth sailing ahead.

After all, my husband and I are consummate milk consumers. Every trip to the grocery store involves the purchase of no less than 3 gallons of skim milk. In addition to that, I sometimes have to call my husband and ask him to pick up more milk on the way home. I've sometimes woken up groggily in the morning after a grocery trip and been confused: Did I forget to bring the milk up from the trunk of the car? No... the milk has just already been consumed in that brief 16 hours or so.

So, you can understand that after our playdate, when Jake started to act cranky and whiny the next couple of days, I just assumed it must be teething pain. I was also equally sure that his new multiple nightly wakings were just a sign that we'd been "spoiling" him too much by letting him come sleep in our bed. Even when my husband pointed out that Jake seemed to be rather gassy one night, I explained it away by pointing out that we had just subjected him to Mexican food recently.

But there was NO mistaking his latest round of poopy diapers as anything other than what they'd become: extreme toxic nuclear waste! There was no sniffing Jake's pants or lifting the elastic to peer inside necessary to determine if Jake had soiled his diaper. All he had to do was come stand next to me and my eyes would start to water.

Finally I grudgingly admitted that Jake *might* have a problem with milk, although it could have been the massive amounts of watermelon I'd let him eat too, you know. So I called a moratorium on both foods for a few days. Almost immediately, Jake went back to his regular napping and sleeping schedule (minus one midnight waking per night, as a pleasant souvenir of the experience). He reverted back to his usual active, happy-go-lucky self.

I did buy some more watermelon the other day at the grocery. I haven't fed any to Jake yet because I'm afraid to finally confirm what I know to be the inevitable truth: milk is no longer Jake's friend. After all, it *could* still be the watermelon, right??


TRUE TODDLER TIME

On a side note, Jake truly is a toddler now. After being through the exhilirating experience of witnessing Jake's first baby steps, I can determine now that those are not what defines toddlerhood. See, back then, Jake *could* take steps, but when he needed to get somewhere quickly he'd revert back to crawling. It's like Jake considered walking fine for entertainment but not sufficiently utilitarian to meet his transportation needs. Sure, taking steps was great for that wobbly feeling of being tall, but when you need to get to the refrigerator door quickly to grab the ketchup bottle before Mommy shuts the door, walking is too slow and unsteady, right?

The true turning point for being a toddler, I think, is when the child prefers using walking as a means of moving around. Lately, Jake has demonstrated such a preference. Grinning wildly, he'll push up on his feet to swagger across the room toward us. After a few steps, he'll crash on his bottom. Undaunted, he'll promptly push back up to toddle a few more steps before the next crash. Jake will keep repeating this process over and over in his determined attempt to walk
all the way across the room.

Now, sometimes later in the day when his poor little leg muscles are tired and his little feet are sore from trying to walk so much, Jake will revert back to crawling again. But there's no mistaking from the huge grins on his face when he is walking that it's his favorite activity, skill, and pasttime. Also, after a couple hours' crawling break, Jake is eager again to pursue us on his own two feet.

Now begins the true pitter-patter of little feet; let the race begin!