Big mean mama
Believe it or not, Fly isn't the most obedient two-year-old this world has ever seen. I know, you are shocked. The Fly you know is smart, charming and terminally cute. But he has a strong will. If you put him on the floor in the Capitol building when Democrats and Republicans are arguing, they will agree to anything if it means finally getting him out of the District of Columbia and not having to deal with him again.
Sometimes when he doesn't listen to me, I call his bluff. For example, when we come home from being somewhere, he doesn't want to come inside. He wants to sit in the driver's seat of my car and play with the controls, run down the street, see what's in the neighbor's yard, smell the other neighbor's flowers, check the mailbox and pick up stray sticks or leaves. But I might have to pee, or I might have heavy bags of groceries, and it's time to go inside right now. Fly doesn't understand right now (unless he wants a cookie). So I might go inside and close the door, watching him from there and hoping that gets his attention.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.
Today, Fly didn't want to take a nap. But I knew he was tired. I told him it was time to sleep. I went to his room, hoping he would follow me. He didn't. I would have picked him up and carried him to his room, but I am in a phase when I am trying to get him to listen to me without intervening like that. (Hey, I can hear you! Stop laughing!) Ten minutes later, he showed up, when I grabbed him and sat him in my lap as usual for some songs and talking about our day so far. Fly hurled himself off my lap and onto the floor.
Because it had already been a tantrumy day, I'd had it. "You can put yourself to sleep!" I said, calling his bluff and and retreating to another room.
And that's exactly what he did.
And when I came back and saw him curled up on the floor, I felt like a big meanie.
I think I need a time-out.
Sometimes when he doesn't listen to me, I call his bluff. For example, when we come home from being somewhere, he doesn't want to come inside. He wants to sit in the driver's seat of my car and play with the controls, run down the street, see what's in the neighbor's yard, smell the other neighbor's flowers, check the mailbox and pick up stray sticks or leaves. But I might have to pee, or I might have heavy bags of groceries, and it's time to go inside right now. Fly doesn't understand right now (unless he wants a cookie). So I might go inside and close the door, watching him from there and hoping that gets his attention.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.
Today, Fly didn't want to take a nap. But I knew he was tired. I told him it was time to sleep. I went to his room, hoping he would follow me. He didn't. I would have picked him up and carried him to his room, but I am in a phase when I am trying to get him to listen to me without intervening like that. (Hey, I can hear you! Stop laughing!) Ten minutes later, he showed up, when I grabbed him and sat him in my lap as usual for some songs and talking about our day so far. Fly hurled himself off my lap and onto the floor.
Because it had already been a tantrumy day, I'd had it. "You can put yourself to sleep!" I said, calling his bluff and and retreating to another room.
And that's exactly what he did.
And when I came back and saw him curled up on the floor, I felt like a big meanie.
I think I need a time-out.
Labels: antics, confessions, Fly, motherhood, sleep
posted by Damselfly at 3:39 PM
19 seeds of thought
