Over the past few months, Clio has gotten increasingly...how do I put this?...particular. First it was books, as I wrote about in this post, a few months back. Then, it started happening with sippy cups. We noticed that if we filled two different colored cups, Clio had strong preferences about which one she wanted: pink trumped all, and purple or orange were better than blue or green. Try to hand her the wrong color cup, and she'd push it away and say "no" until you offered her the other one.
Then, just when I thought I had her color preferences all figured out, she changed her game. She started consistently refusing the first cup I offered her, in favor of the second one, regardless of color. And then sometimes -- in a cunning and exasperating twist -- once she had that one, she'd whine until I swapped it for Elsa's cup. (Elsa, bless her heart, could care less.) So now I just hold up both cups and let her choose.
What's even stranger (or cuter or more annoying, depending on my mood) is that she also has preferences when two items are EXACTLY THE SAME. Por ejemplo: we have two identical toothbrushes, which we use interchangeably on the girls. The same color, the same design, everything. But lately, Clio won't accept the first one I hand her. Or she will, after I try offering her the second one. Or maybe, if Jupiter is aligned with Mars and the date is a prime number and the Sox are playing at home, she'll take the first toothbrush the first time. Who can predict -- let alone understand -- the ways of the Clio?
Sometimes I think she just likes the process of it all: the chance to assert what she wants, then refuse it, then ask for it again. Other times I wonder if it's a twin-specific thing. Is she trying to prove (to herself and to us?) that she and her sister are not interchangeable? That she has very specific needs and wants, and we can't expect to treat her and her sister them the same way, even when it comes to something as simple as offering them a toothbrush or a cup or a cracker? I'm just glad that this fussiness hasn't extended to all aspects of life -- clothes, shoes, diapers, car seats. (Can you imagine? No, mama, I don't want to be on the left! I want to be on the right, where Elsa is. No, no, no! Not over here! On the left! That's what I said! Yes it is. Why are you looking at me like that?)
I am reminded of a classic snapshot in one of our old family albums, labeled "The Tantrum in Tomorrowland." It was taken in 1980 on our first family trip to Disney World, and features my father, in a shaggy beard and slightly too-tight, bright red, Jack Tripper-esque shorts, grinning with sarcastic fervor while holding my writhing, screaming, three-year-old brother in his arms. What happened was this: we'd all started to climb a staircase to some sort of rocket thing, my father leading the way. My brother piped up and told my father that he wanted to go first. So, my father obligingly stepped back down to let him go ahead. But no. My father had already ruined it. My brother couldn't go first -- it wasn't the same -- because our father already had. There was no remedying the situation. He (my brother, that is) proceeded to scream and cry inconsolably for at least fifteen minutes (I think at some point my mom and I left and went on the Mad Hatter teacup ride....) until he finally fell asleep, right on the pavement.
I really would prefer to avoid this kind of scenario.
Every time I hand Clio the wrong cup, I fear that she's going to snap because I didn't comply with her need to have everything just so. I'm sure this control thing is a natural developmental stage, and it's silly of me to take it too seriously. Still, I find myself bending over backward to do things the way Clio seems to want me to, just to keep her from freaking out. It's probably not a good habit to get into. But they're such small, innocent things. Like the other night, when she insisted on sleeping in the hooded towel I'd put on her after her bath. (She's a big fan of having things on her head -- except when she's completely opposed to it.) What's the harm, right?
Or should I be trying to break her of these little pecularities and get her to chill? Is my complicity fueling unhealthy, compulsive behavior? Or should I continue to take the path of least resistance and humor her? Please advise.
