We’re currently going through the dog stage of childhood. Not in any official books on parenting, its identifying characteristic is the frequency with which your child barks or howls instead of using language.
Whenever I ask my three-year-old a question, “Woof” is the only answer I receive.
“Want to go to the park?”
“Woof (pant, pant).”
“Eggs for breakfast?”
“Woof, woof, woof.”
Barking and howling are not the only characteristics of this stage. If something makes my daughter unhappy, out comes the clenched teeth, tight-cheeked growl. Cats, normally loved and petted, get a growled warning if they act too frisky with our resident dog-child.
A secondary characteristic is sniffing and tracking. My daughter sniffed her way home the other day, insisting that the car windows be rolled down. Thankfully she was strapped in the car seat, so she couldn’t hang her head out the window to pant. Once we arrived at the house, no cat, bug, or lizard was safe from my dog-child’s nose pressed to the ground.
Biting is probably the biggest downside to this stage. If you had a previous biting phase, then the dog stage will feel like one big flashback.
It’s just not pleasant to have a tight-jawed dog-child tugging on my clothes while I’m attempting to cook, walk to the bathroom, or picking up the house before the Big Dog gets home from paid employment.
Begging is also a secondary characteristic. On those rare occasions when my daughter speaks English, pretty much every sentence ends with, “Can we get a doggie?” On the way to the grocery store, she asks, “Are we getting a doggie there?” at least 20 times. Somehow my daughter has even gotten my husband, the softy, to look at me with hound dog eyes and say how great it would be to have a dog in the house.
My daughter somehow got it into her head that if we had a doghouse, then a dog would soon follow. She begged for days for a doghouse, pointing out the perfect spot to me in our backyard.
I finally consented to build a doghouse for her future pet but indoors only. We converted the large cardboard box that served as a boat for months, piling in pillows and blankets for her doggie comfort. My daughter wanted to add the strangulation hazard of rope. “Doggies need leashes,” she argued. Sorry – no dice. No leashes allowed in this house. I finally won the argument when I told her that our doggie will run free.
The doghouse has actually made my life easier. It’s a great spot for snacks, minimizing clean-up from spills. My daughter even takes pretend naps in the dog house, giving me a solid five minutes to check email. She alerts me that she’s awake with a friendly doggie “ruf!”
When playmates come over, my daughter recruits them to be fellow dogs by first showing them the make-shift doggie abode. Then they proceed to crawl around the house howling in unison.
Although I have my moments with the doggie stage, I admit that sometimes I truly enjoy it. I have a secret satisfaction with asking her questions in bark mode and actually getting an answer back. Doggie kisses are always a pleasure. And finally, there’s just nothing like the look on a stranger’s face when they ask my daughter, “How old are you?” and she answers them with three barks.
Top Tip #6
If you’re pregnant or otherwise desperate or just trying to feed your toddler something they will eat, icecream is considered part of the dairy group. Dish it out for breakfast, lunch, or dinner!