The Wee Raisin King
Raisins are generally good. They’re sweet, chewy, handy to throw in a bag. I can see why people like them; I’ve been known to eat them myself. I do not, however, understand Axel’s obsession with the raisin. He’d pick raisins over ice cream any day. If there were a raisin fan club, he’d run for president. If someone offered to fill a baby pool full of raisins, providing a sun-soaked opportunity to roll in dried fruit and gorge himself on their chewy goodness, he’d dive right in. He’d like nothing better than to be king of the land of raisins, sporting a cardboard crown adorned with sundried grapes.
The most accurate comparison to his love of raisins is a slightly unstable celebrity stalker’s feelings about his target. Raisins are perfection. They deserve all of the awards that dried fruit makers association can give out; they sure should’ve beat the sundried plum for snack of the year. He’d have all the California Raisins action figures, still pristine in the box. He would also woo the raisins’ publicist, in an attempt to get closer to the raisins, and threaten the raisins’ security team for keeping him at a distance from the object of his adoration. Then, eventually, the raisins would do something to shake his love for them – spend too much time with a pack of walnuts, or shrivel and dry up – and he’d turn all of his pent-up anger toward the raisins, tossing them to the ground and stomping on them.
So, he has a love/hate relationship with raisins. Usually, he loves them, marching around the kitchen, pointing at the cupboard and demanding ‘sins (his word for raisins). But sometimes, right after he demands the raisins, he screams at them – and anything else he may have been offered for a snack – and has a perplexing tantrum that seems to be triggered by the existence of raisins, or by the way I have delivered the raisins to him, or perhaps the refusal of raisins to do a little dance to “I Heard It Through the Grapevine.” It makes no sense.
This is what it means to be a toddler. You love raisins. You hate raisins. You love raisins but you hate that you can’t have a neverending supply of raisins and thus every bite of raisin is tainted by the knowledge that it may be your last. And so you yell. About dried fruit.
As you might guess, Axel’s been exercising his free will a lot lately. He is free to demand more raisins. I am free to refuse to give them to him. He is free to scream and writhe on the kitchen floor. I am glad he’s got a healthy set of lungs and he’s expressing his independence I just wish that his desires matched up with my desires more often.
While monitoring the swine flu news, I’ve been reminding myself how lucky we all are to be healthy. I have found myself mumbling under my breath, “I am thankful I have a healthy child,” after the tenth demand for, yes, more dried fruit. It’s true. I am thankful for my health and the healthy of my son.
I am not, however, thankful for raisins. Raisins, and whatever addictive to toddlers chemical they’ve got in them, I could do without. Tantrums, also.
The raisin king disagrees.
it’s the magical fairy they sprinkle on them…
And so you enter the stage of irrationality. Ahhh…good times.
This was hilarious by the way.
This is how Flann behaves around Elmo. (Yes, I’m one of THOSE mothers, but without an Elmo DVD there is no way he’d ever let me get dressed in the AM.) Want Elmo! Elmo is on, but he’s singing the wrong song! He’s singing the right song but some other Muppet is in the frame! He’s wearing the wrong hat! Ohmigod. Oh dawn of logic, where are you?
Yes, The Boy loves raisins, too. I’m usually happy to give them to him, but sometimes the aftermath … ew.
I’m thankful for raisins because they count as FRUIT. Which makes me a good mom giving my child healthy food.
I was always afraid to give Michael raisins because I was afraid he’d choke or swallow one or that he couldn’t chew it, whatever. Yeah, I’m that mom! Axel is a full-blown toddler now in all it’s ugliness and adorableness! It ebbs and flows, as I have heard others say.
Hey what’s that cool mat thing the Raisin King has before him? (and ditto to EG’s comment!)
at least it’s somewhat healthy raisins
Would you believe we’ve never giver Sophie raisins. Not sure why. As picky as she is, if she took up a love affair with any food, I’d be happy.
You can remind me I said that later when I’m complaining about my raisin-addicted daughter.
My son is also obsessed with raisins. He’d eat raisins and/or hummus for every meal if he had the choice. At least they’re healthy!
“This is what it means to be a toddler. You love raisins. You hate raisins. You love raisins but you hate that you can’t have a neverending supply of raisins and thus every bite of raisin is tainted by the knowledge that it may be your last. And so you yell. About dried fruit.”
LOL! Yup, that’s about right, isn’t it?
Yeah, it is fruit, but too much of it is not so good for the digestion….
Adrienne, that’s a Stokke Table Top. It’s a plastic thing that suctions to the table – sort of like a placemat but it doesn’t move. Well, not as easily as a placemat.