Gone Too Soon

Of all the reasons to cry like the toddler she is, this is by far the most adorable.

A normal woman her age would cry about all the things she’s lost. Most adults don’t willingly give up every freedom and privilege that comes with adulthood.

And she has lost plenty of privileges over the years.

But she’s not crying because she has the potty training of a newborn. She doesn’t mind that she’ll helplessly fill every diaper I tape on her—or that she’ll never go a day without diapers again.

She’s not crying because her wardrobe can only be described as “Daycare Chic.” She enthusiastically traded her big girl clothes for onesies, frilly tutus, and an ever-growing collection of Bluey-branded outfits.

She’s not crying because everyone treats her like the overgrown toddler she is. She’s proud of her pamper packer status.

She’s not crying because her princess parts will never play outside of her thick, soggy diapers. A wet diaper and a cuddly stuffie are all the stimulation she needs.

She’s not even crying because she’s being sent to bed at 7:30–before the sun has even set. She’s exhausted from an eventful day of diaper changes, naps, and cartoons.

No, she’s not crying for any of the reasons you’d expect from an adult without any traces of adulthood.

She loves her new life. She belongs in her thick pampers, being talked down to by her former peers.

Which brings us to this adorable little tantrum.

My little cutie lost her favorite paci!

Well, not so much lost as destroyed. Our dog decided to take the paci for a test drive.

Poor baby. Her favorite binky gone too soon.

Now she’s overwhelmed without it to soothe her. And, of course, the pile of binkies on her bed just aren’t the same!

She only wants THAT binky!

It might sound trivial to an adult, but it should be clear that she’s not an adult.

For someone like her—with the emotional range of a toddler—it might as well be the end of the world. She’s not acting, either.

This is who she is.

Right now, she’s working through some “big feelings” over losing her binky with the only tool available to her.

Crying.

Whatever “big girl” faculties she once had are long gone. Neatly packaged away in a tiny box, stored in the deepest pit of her psyche. Or maybe she lost them the same way she lost her potty training—years of disuse.

I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter in the end.

All I know is that the advice in books for parents raising toddlers is the same as how to help the overwhelmed girl in front of me.

When she calms down, we’ll work through all her big feelings together. I’ll model proper emotional regulation for her while she tells me about her big feelings.

I’ll acknowledge and validate them, too. “It’s okay to be upset, honey. It’s not easy losing the things we love, is it?”

Then I'll pick up my sobbing babygirl and rest her in my arms, rocking her gently, assuring her that Daddy will always be here for her. Nothing calms her down faster than a loving embrace in my arms.

I am her safe space, after all.

After that, I’ll do my best to distract her from this Paci-Gate scandal.

It shouldn’t be too difficult—her attention span is about as advanced as her potty control. Plus, if I know anything about her, she’ll never turn down a baba of “chokkie milk.”

She’ll be asleep before she finishes her baba.

Like clockwork.

But unlike parents raising a tantruming toddler, my little one will never grow up.

No matter how often we practice regulating our “big feelings,” the lesson will never truly sink in.

She’ll never grow out of these tantrums.

And that’s okay—I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She’s my forever Babygirl. My perpetual toddler.

I couldn’t be happier.

Photo: Daddyiwantthis