So we don't forget....

Tonight at the dinner table, Aaron was having a grand old time slapping Andrew's arm as it rested on the edge of the highchair. Andrew would say "ouch!" and Aaron would think it was the funniest thing ever and squeal and grin at everyone sitting at the table.

After this had gone on for a few minutes, we decided to see if we could teach our 17 month old the difference between Mom and Dad when it comes to playful hitting. So I put my arm up on the other edge of his highchair and, of course, he gave my arm a good slap. We gave him a very stern "No" and he melted into a puddle of pathetic tears. We then showed him how to be gentle with Mom and how to hit Dad. Once we showed him how to hit Dad again he started laughing through his tears. He then went back and forth between hitting dad and gently stroking my arm, clapping for himself in between and demanding that we do so as well.

I'm mostly posting this for our own benefit when we want to look back and remember when he caught on to this and the difference between roughhousing with Dad and loving Mom. I still remember my first  parenting light bulb with Bella when we lived at our first apartment (so she was less than 9 months old) and I was able to teach her that screaming at me was a surefire way not to get another bite of ice cream, but that patient waiting would get her lots of cold yummy goodness. I don't remember the exact age and I wish I'd written it down (actually, this post might refer to it, but I'm not sure), so I'm writing this one down so we don't forget.