This is the face of RTC syndrome. Look closely. It's a devastating affliction.
RTC, which in the Allison house stands for Resistance to Change, is a debilitating illness. It affects those young and old. It knows no age. It knows no gender.
RTC is a genetic disease that I have long suspected Sam had. It affects nearly all DNA-linked Allisons. God help you, Baby Kate. For Sam, today was total, 100% confirmation that he has RTC. Good news is knowing this is cheaper and more accurate than a paternity test. Small wins everyday in my life.
Chuck is obviously nearly incapacitated with his RTC. Does anyone else remember this meltdown in 2010 over cereal changing formula? Yes, I signed my name to this open letter to General Mills, but who do you think was spouting the venom that night?
You too may have family members currently suffering from RTC. You yourself may be a sufferer as well. I struggle with bouts from time to time but I feel those are more like Patty Hearst symptoms and I'm identifying with my Allison captors and starting to act like them.
Symptoms of RTC may include:
~owning t-shirts from middle school into your 30s
~inability to throw away mail or any documents even those in duplicate or online
~unnatural attachment to inanimate objects like your childhood dryer which someone and his sister may have asked their mom to take a picture of since they weren't home to say goodbye to it when it almost lit the house on fire and had to be replaced.
Today I began the process of transitioning Sam's room into a big boy room. I get asked a lot about whether I'm transitioning Sam to a new room and moving baby Kate into the "nursery" or leaving Sam. It was never a question: leave him. I have also said repeatedly that I want this to be a slow process, piece by piece.
Why? Because I know my child. I know his genetics. And I know how this would go down if it was happening to his father.
And this is what I got:
THIS is a hysterical meltdown over switching his rug. RUG. He lost his baby mind over a new rug. Not in a good way lost his mind. Lost it in a world-coming-to-an-end-my-life-is-over sort of way.
Together we opened the new rug. He was very interested. It was wrapped around a tube so the new rug was immediately on his good side - it had brought a gift. Until he realized what was happening.
I pulled up the old rug and threw it over the railing to downstairs. I came back into his room to find him sitting where the rug had been, rubbing the ground, and crying. We laid the new carpet out and... meltdown.
He hates it. It's not his old rug. It's awful.
SAWREEEA Sam but that rug has Lebowski-like qualities and will really tie your new big boy room together. It stays.
Later, after copious amounts of playing on the rug, spinning, and happy feet dancing, it seemed like we were going to make it.
Until he saw the old rug downstairs, threw himself on it, and rolled back and forth in love.
|I love this rug too don't get me wrong. It's fabulous. It also gets brown stains on it from water, drool, ANYTHING. I'm done.|
Sam Allison, now an official card holder in the RTC club. Blame your father, Sam.
Question: if this is the reaction I get to a new rug, what happens when the changing table moves or the crib comes out or the new baby is home? Will his head just explode? What does toddler therapy look like? Do they have a little baby IKEA couch to lay on?