It's 8:40 am and my terror, I mean toddler, has discovered two pieces of chocolate left out on a table. She knows chocolate is a treat not to be eaten at just anytime of day. I am sitting not two feet from her and watch as her eyes widen and a smirk crosses her face as she reaches for the chocolate treasure. She's got them in her chubby clutches and takes a quick glance toward me before bolting out of sight. I sit up momentarily, fill my lungs prepared to shout after her but instead slump back into the sofa and re-fix my eyes on the magazine I have been halfheartedly perusing. Victory is hers. Go ahead and judge me. I'm too tired to care.
My day began at 5:30am - breakfast time for my two month old daughter. After she was changed and settled into a satisfied slumber I prepared to join her. But instead my alarm went off in the form of a tantruming toddler. So much for a Saturday sleep in. In the ensuing hours we negotiated over which plum she would eat, debated over the appropriate toastedness of her bread, bargained over whether she would sit on the potty, and argued over the mess she made on the floor. I reminded her that tables are for glasses not for asses (in toddler friendly terms), reprimanded her for trying to wake her sister by sticking her finger in her ear, and refused her request to color on the (formerly) beige couch. She whined, pouted, cried, and screamed in between each please, thank you and I love you Mama. I took deep breaths, kept my cool, explained good behavior expectations and tried not to over do it with the threat of time out.
As a parent to a toddler consistency in discipline is key but so is picking your battles. Knowing how to reconcile these seemingly contrary principles is a challenge. So is raising a toddler. It's a game of improvisation, a stay one step ahead, fake it 'til you make it type of job. So at times I let exhaustion lead the way as is the case with the runaway chocolate. I confess I even enjoy the thought of my daughter reveling in the fact that she got away with it and savoring her forbidden bounty. Moments after her bolt across the room, my daughter reemerged with chocolate on her breath and smudged across her cheeks. She approached me and said, "Mama do you want a chocolate?" She opened her sticky fingers to reveal the now melty second piece of chocolate.
So she took something shouldn't have taken, and ate something she shouldn't have eaten. At least she knows how to share.
No comments:
Post a Comment