How dealing with a two-and-half-year-old kid is sometimes like dealing with North Korea

So North Korea is at it again. For the the second time this year, the rogue state committed an unprovoked act of violence on its democratic neighbors to the south, this time killing four.

Time to to put the them in their place, right? Not so fast says The Economist:

The starting-point for answering the North’s aggression has to be that, in the most basic sense, the Kims will almost certainly get away with only a symbolic return of fire. It is entirely wrong for North Korea to act as it does. But punitive military reprisals against the North risk a spiral of escalation and catastrophic war. Deterrence works badly against a dictator who blithely imposes famine and gulags on his people during peacetime. Even if there are doubts about the efficacy of its tiny nuclear arsenal, North Korea has enough men under arms, and enough conventional ammunition within range of Seoul—just 35 miles (60km) from the frontier—to make war seem very much a last resort.

I moderately agree with this sentiment. As much as the people that control North Korea deserve—for lack of a more eloquent phrase (hey, I don’t get paid to write this stuff)—what’s coming to them. But as satisfying to some sense of naive justice as that would be, the downstream impacts of a forceful response would simply make things worse. The known costs of the “escalation” would be too severe, and the unknown costs may be even worse.

So what do we do?

If you’re sifting through posts filled with pictures of my kids (& pictures of my nieces, & pictures of my friends’ kids) on this blog searching for an answer to that question, then you’ve come to the wrong place. But if you want to see me imply my son has a lot in common with Kim Jong Il, stick around.

A well-rested toddler is like Canada. Canada’s probably our staunchest ally. They’re pretty much just like us, only 1/10 our size. Yeah, I know there are some substantial ideological differences between the United States and Canada, but that’s all relative. When compared to, say Yemen, the countries look pretty much the same.

(Sort of reminds me college. When I left Northeast Ohio for college in Southwest Ohio, I became acutely aware of the differences between the regions. Like their takes on pasta for instance. In Cincinnati they think spaghetti should be topped with chili sauce—which they refer to as chili—and shredded cheddar. In Youngstown if three or more individuals gather for any period of time longer than 20 minutes, it is mandated that rigatoni with meatballs be served from a disposable aluminum rectangular serving tray. But when studying abroad in France, the answer to the question of where I was from simply became Ohio. Compared to France, the differences didn’t seem much like differences anymore.)

So yes, Canada and the United States may not always see eye to eye on the corn trade, but when it comes to the serious issues, we usually agree. Like when the United States called for the removal of the Taliban in Afghanistan. It may have not been what they really felt like doing, but they realized it was the right thing to do at the time (hindsight, ah well, let’s not delve there in this space) and reluctantly joined America’s mission.

When Edwin’s running on full sleep (11+ hours overnight, 2+ during nap time), he plays Canada to Mindy's and my United States. He may not feel like putting on a coat before going outside in the cold or walking himself to 60-seconds of timeout after throwing his toy hammer in the vicinity of baby sister. But he intellectualizes our directives and complies with minimal incident.

A sleep-deprived Edwin, wow, that’s a whole ‘nother story.

29 days in, Edwin’s got potty training down. In fact, he pretty much had it down in the first week. Problem is, he gets up early to pee. Not so early that he can be talked into going back to bed. Like an hour and 15 minutes early. And again at bed time, he stalls as long as possible with repeated potty requests, which against our best efforts, has been pushing bed time back about 45 minutes.  All in all that means he’s been operating with 2 hours less sleep than normal for the better part of a month. I bring this up not to beg for ideas or help (he’s gone through his phases in the past…we will get through this), but just to level set where we’re at the present with this little sleep-deprived little monster handsome devil.

So when Edwin violates a widely-recognized household policy (like the aforementioned hammer toss), especially when Lyla is sleeping (which when occurring spontaneously in her bouncy chair in the living room, we go into full monastery mode), the first thought that goes through Mindy and my head is the concept of escalation.

Justice would dictate that a timeout is in order, but remember, this ain’t 14-hours-of sleep Canada we’re dealing with here (who would take his penance in stride). We know once the timeout sentenced has been handed down, a complete meltdown is inevitable, “waaah, but I don’t want to go in the kitchen….waaah, I want to say with Mama, waaah!” (our timeout spot is a rug in the kitchen so it can be timed via microwave).

Next thing we know, Lyla wakes up, Mindy’s got a headache, and what should’ve been a 1-minute process ends up with me spending 10-minutes attempting to reason with a hysterical 2.5-year-old on the kitchen floor.

So what do we do? We play it like the United States does with North Korea. A feeble attempt at diplomacy with the hope that when Kim Jong Il passes on, things will be better. We threaten timeout, but when his lip starts to quiver, we back down and say next time (knowing full well we’ll back down next time too), all the while hoping this sleep-deprived phase passes sooner rather than later.

How optimistic for the future should we all be? Uh, I dunno. King Jong Un, Kim Jong Il’s son, has been tapped as the next Dear Leader, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see how far that apple falls. As for the Ross house, Lyla will be a 2.5-yr-old soon enough…

Anyway, here’s the little guy on one of his early mornings: