You know, I was never a big fan of the Cold War until I started doing daycare. It was then that I realized how important the dance of intimidation can be on virtually ever scale.

Observe:

Spawnling has more than lived up to his name as a toddler terror. He's getting better, but there are still children he can't be in the same room with without wearing oven mitts. If he makes the first battle move and there is retaliation of any kind - or, if the child in question dares invade his bubble to snatch a toy - they launch into a full scale war. It's an ugly sight and often ends the playdate a tad earlier and bloodier than anticipated.

Enter E-man, the boy I watch once or twice a week while his parents are off at their jobthingies. He's four, built like a Brinks truck, and you probably don't want to mess with him. That is, to say, he looks like someone you wouldn't want to mess with if you were a two-year-old who's a full head shorter. In truth, E-man is quite gentle and kind. He shares well and gets along well with other kids. But Spawnling doesn't know this; it's trickery of the mind, you see.

And it works.

Much like the Cold War, Spawnling will not make the first move. As far as he's concerned, the potential enemy has nukes and isn't afraid to use them. If Spawn fires a missle, E-man could, in theory, fire off several bigger ones. And BOOM! Spawngaria is wiped off the map, just like that.

Spawnling does not mess with E-man very often. He sometimes tempts fate by putting sanctions on the Duplo, but that's as far as it goes. In short, I now believe that living in sheer terror has its good points, too - especially when it gives you time to drink a coffee and blog.


Yesterday, after Geekster and I got his car window fixed, I brought Toughy the Toddler to the Museum of Agriculture, or, as us yokels call it, the Experimental Farm, or, as Gutsy calls it, the Animal Science Farm (creepiest/best name ever). We hadn't been in a while and I thought it might be nice to show him some of the baby animals born over the last few weeks.

Big mistake.

After shelling out $65 for our yearly membership renewal, we made our way into the first barn. Ted and King, the giant workhorses, greeted us at the entrance. Spawnling would not look at them. He would not leave my arms. He would not let go of my jacket as he clung to me like a terrified monkey.

No problem. We would go see the pigs. "Monsters!" screamed my toddler, and he started to wail. How pigs look like monsters I'm not entirely sure. But apparently they do; big, pink monsters that lie on the ground and don't move. Sort of like me after doing a pilates video. You'd think this would be familiar territory.

Onward.

Sheep. Who could be afraid of sheep?

Spawnling can be afraid of sheep. Little black heads on huge, white, fluffy bodies was enough to keep him sobbing into my coat. This was not going well. But oh, wait! One of the employees had a little lamb out for the kids to pet. Cradled in her arms it was no bigger than our cocker spaniel. Perfect.

After a bit of coaxing, Spawn crawled out of my arms and approached the lamb. "Cute," he said, as he put his hand out to pet it.

The lamb opened it's mouth: "BAAaaAAaaaAaAAAAaAAaaaAAAA!!!!"

"MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

We left the barn.

Since he wouldn't even approach the fence behind which cows were quietly munching hay, we gave up on anything breathing and instead focused our attention on the barn with toys and two simulated tractors and no animals. The last time we visited the farm - about five months ago - Spawnling loved the tractors. You can climb up into the seat, hit a switch and pretend to drive. They bounce up and down and are a jolly good time.

Unless you're going through a phase, that is, and then they are apparently terrifying.

No tractors.

In the end, Spawnling found the outdoor play area. It's a play structure in the shape of a barn, with a little wooden tractor at the base that doesn't move.

"This is fun, Mom!" exclaimed a happy Spawnling. He went down the twirly slide, climbed ladders, didn't push any other kids. He had found the un-scary part of the museum.

"I'm glad you're having fun, little guy. But is this the only part of the farm you like?" I asked.

"Yep."

"So, what you're saying is, I just spent $65 so you could go to the park?"

"Yep."

Sigh. I guess we'll try again next month.