Clingy Toddlers

Sweet baby Flash isn’t such a baby anymore. At 18 months old, we’ve got a toddler in the house again, and this little boy lives up to his nickname. Turn your head for a second, and he’s gone, scaling furniture, digging through cabinets, and getting into mischief. He knows what he wants, and he goes after it. When he’s not getting what he wants, he’s quite vocal. I do believe he’s the most opinionated and expressive of the Robertson children. Heaven help us. 

Aside from the yelling at me portion, I do love this phase. I love that Flash recognizes me as the one who meets his needs. I’m the place he goes to for comfort, for food, for fun, for so many things. I’m his mommy, and right now, I’m his world. It’s been fun watching his development, even though it feels like just yesterday he was born in my bathroom. When did I blink? Soon he’ll be telling me, “I do it by my own,” just like his big brothers did. These early childhood years are incredible. Personalities develop, they’re analyzing and problem-solving, language bursts forth, fine motor skills emerge; it’s nothing short of miraculous how we develop as humans. 

One of the critical pieces of early childhood development is attachment to family. I have a friend who’s a therapist specializing in adoption and early childhood trauma; he defines attachment as the degree to which you believe someone else sees your need and can meet that need. I see this in my relationship with Flash. He’s entirely dependent on me and therefore attached to me. The same is true for my older kids. We have a history together; from their infancy, I have taken care of them. Their whole life tells them that I (and their daddy) meet their needs. This is the privilege of being Mommy. 

But Mommy isn’t a superhero, and Mommy isn’t a miracle worker, she’s just a mommy. I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but alas, I cannot put it back together after I’ve cut it in [apparently] the wrong shape. I can pour a glass of milk, but I cannot magically make it appear when the jug is empty, and I haven’t been to the store yet. Such are my limitations, among many others. As my kids get older, they learn what I am capable of and what I’m not. The baby is completely attached to me; I’m his world because he can do next to nothing without me. But with my eldest, I see the beginnings of independence as he realizes that he can do lots of things by himself. I guess this is how it’s meant to be, the slow progress that ends with him eventually detaching from our family to branch out and begin his own. As I’ve thought about the concept of attachment with my kids, I realized how it mirrors my relationship with God, my Father. 

Two of God’s names, given in the very first book of the Bible, are El Roi and Jehovah Jireh, The God Who Sees, and The Lord Will Provide (Gen 16:13 & 22:14). Before I even had a definition for the concept of attachment, God revealed himself to be the one who fulfills it. He sees me, and he will provide. So I have to ask myself, how much do I believe that’s true? Better yet, do I live like it? When I worry, stress, fret, and try to plow through and handle everything on my own, do I really believe that God can meet my needs? Am I as attached to him as my children are to me or am I just familiar with God, knowledgeable but not trusting?

 While the goal of parenting is eventually for my children to be capable of meeting their own needs, that is not the case with faith. Jesus said, “Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.” (Mark 10:15). It may take fighting against my “I do it by my own” nature, but I want to be truly attached to God. I want to hold onto him with the attachment and faith of a clingy toddler, I’ll just try to leave the temper tantrums behind. 

“And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus” Philippians 4:19