“I want water. I’m getting water.” Off
he marched to fulfill his request.
“No, you don’t get water by yourself.”
“I want water!”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me no! You don’t tell me
no!”
“You need to ask nicely.”
“You get water for me NOW, please.”
“That’s not asking nicely.”
“Momma, I want water now!” He hopped and
stomped and scowled and clenched his hands into fists.
“Look. You either ask nicely and
politely or you get nothing.”
He brightened with a big smile. “Please
can I have some water?”
I happily and immediately got up to get
him some water, praising him for asking so nicely. He followed me into the
kitchen, skipping along. I handed him the cup of water.
“I WANT ICE CUBES!” he screamed at the
top of his lungs.
“Naptime.”
Naptime is what happens when small
kiddos push all of Mom’s buttons and wear her patience thin. There is a
difference between a child that is learning manners and needs reminders and an
impudent little brat that could make the world’s most formidable dictator wither
in fear.
I sent his Lordship to his room. Before
he even got there he was screaming epithets and howling with injustice.
Thank God for doors. Doors are what
separate human beings from the rest of the animal kingdom. If it weren’t for
doors, we’d eat our young. It’s such a small price to pay for some peace and
quiet.
My husband came home and asked me how my
day was. I nodded wearily toward our son’s bedroom door. He was sobbing and
sounding pretty miserable. Weakly his voice carried through the door.
“Dad? Please can I have some water?”
As if mean, evil Momma had denied him
this humble request and had banished him from the family forever.
It must have been the longest and most
forlorn ten minutes of his life.
It was heaven for me.
Dealing with a three-year old all day is
like smacking your head against a wall and then being worshipped on a pedestal.
You alternate between the two. You are either his worst enemy or you are the one
being in the entire world he cherishes and will go out of his way to adore. You
are either ‘in’ or ‘out’. You are either his best friend or his biggest foe.
“I don’t love you anymore!” is first
uttered at the age of three.
Don’t worry. Chances are you have
something he wants.
Everybody does. He’ll be back in no time
screaming, “Mine, mine, mine!”
Heaven help us all.
