Today was not all sunshine and list making. (See post below, which could also be titled 'Traits I am most proud of passing on to the future generation'.)
We did make it to the park with my sister and her kids. All was good. It was one of those really beautiful fall days where the sky is clear blue and the air is just this side of nippy.
And then we walked across the street to mail something at the post office. Which is where It All Fell Apart.
After Zoey's action-packed weekend, a semi-late bedtime last night, and her burning desire to get up with me at 6:30 this morning, I could smell a meltdown coming long before it happened. Despite the fact that she had been warned there would be no walking to the bakery for donuts after the post office if she couldn't mind her manners and listen to me, she proceeded to wander off repeatedly, causing me to dart back and forth in the long long line and drag her back to my side. When asked to get up off the floor, she pulled the Limp Noodle Maneuver that only a kid can perfect. And she did it all with the trademark naughty look in her big brown eyes that always sets my teeth on edge.
So. I probably could have let it all slide and still walked to the bakery...because I wanted a donut too...but she's been pushing her luck more often than not in these past few weeks, and I decided it was time to pull the Mean Mommy card even though I knew this would mean my own life would not be worth living for the next hour or so.
Her veeeeeery long temper tantrum after learning there would be no donuts in her near future earned her one time-out in front of the coffee shop across the street from the post office, and another in front of the library, 10 feet away from our car.
Her continued wailing/slapping/screaming spectacle bought her a one-way ticket to bed once we got home with NO STORIES and (brace yourselves) NO HOT MILK.
I've never pulled out all the stops like that and I have to say it was highly effective.
The kid has never gone down for bed without hot milk and stories. Ever. And finally, at that point where I was holding her sobbing body and telling her how very sorry I was that she had chosen to behave so badly, and that when we behave badly, we can't have the things we want...the look in her (now un-naughty) brown eyes was just heart-breaking. She knew Mommy wasn't backing down and she was so incredibly sad. It made me realize how hard it must be to be two years old.
And then she slept for three hours and woke up a completely different person. Polite. Funny. Cooperative.
Please tell me all nearly-three-year-olds are this challenging. And borderline bipolar.
2 comments:
Why yes, all three year olds are like that! "Borderline bipolar" is a good way of putting it. :) Sorry you missed your donut.
nah, Mean Mommy would've gone to the bakery and gotten herself a donut and left Two Year Old tied to the hydrant outside. You're a pretty nice gal.
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