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Ah, three-year-olds. I love 'em. One moment life is great, they're laughing and having fun. The next? A shrieking, wailing, kicking alien is writhing on the floor, incensed because you dared - dared - to put their juice in the monkey cup instead of the birdie cup.
Good times, people. Good times.
I'd love to say that Princess G never appears to have morphed into Reagan from "The Exorcist." She looks so angelic - wavy blond hair, big blue eyes, three dimples, a happy-go-lucky personality, well-developed comic timing and a wickedly funny sense of humor. (Note that I did not choose the word "wickedly" by chance.) Everyone tells us how adorable and sweet she is - and she is.
Sometimes. Usually the first 27 seconds after she wakes up. Then it gets ugly.
Case in point: a typical work/school morning. We're getting dressed, brushing teeth, doing hair, etc., and out of the blue, Princess G decides she doesn't want to wear shorts to school. She wanted to wear a skirt.
No, I don't think you understand. SHE WANTED TO WEAR A SKIRT. WHAT PART OF THAT IS CONFUSING, YOU DIMWITTED EXCUSE FOR AN ADULT?!!
Yeah, I didn't quite get the intensity of her desire on first blush. However, about 30 minutes into her 45-minute crying, screaming, Tasmanian devil rant around the house, I started to catch on. (I pride myself on my intuitiveness as a mother.)
There was naked ranting at one point (on her part). There was hiding in the laundry room banging heads against the wall at another point (on my part). There was the thinking stair. There was the taking away of the next gymnastics lesson. There was the banishment of the favorite toy to the top of the refrigerator. There was the threat of taking her to school in her pajamas. There was even the threat of taking her to school naked. (It was late. She had stripped. I was desperate. Like you wouldn't think about it, too.)
Thankfully, there was no yelling (on my part - at least until I was in the car alone later). And, there was no giving in. Finally, there was acquiescence. Shorts were on. Noses were blown. Tears were wiped (those were mine). And we finally made it to school. Completely clothed - both of us. And I finally made it to work. Where I twitched in a corner for the next hour.
There's five months to go until we hit four. I think strong pharmaceuticals may be in order. Or at least one naked trip somewhere. (On my part. I can't guarantee rational thinking if I have to hear that shriek again.)
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3 comments:
Oh Mistie. I feel your pain. My "Reagan" is 14 now, and she's amazing. But she was that type of kid. The seams on socks not hitting exactly where they were supposed to; the labels in the backs of shirts rubbing her neck, etc. She had to QUIT dancing school b/c the leotards sent her into a tantrum in which she would run through the house screaming "I HAVE A WEDGIE. I DON'T LIKE WEDGIES." I highly, highly suggest the book "The Strong-willed Child." And one more thing -- when it came to my Diva, clothing battles were NEVER worth it. We made a deal when she was 4 - I got to pick her clothes on holidays, picture days and church days. She got to pick them EVERY OTHER TIME. The tantrums ended on that front. She needed to be empowered. (Unfortunately, at 14, she no longer gives me holidays, church days OR picture days. And I haven't found a book for that. :(
Just the mental image of the wedgie scenario makes me howl - too funny. And you're the second person to suggest "The Strong-Willed Child" - think I'll be making a trip to Borders ASAP!
One of my little girls in the world has a side of her that is a reminder of your princess g story...and we call that attitude "bombaloo" there is a book about this temper tantrum called Bambaloo. Once kali saw and heard how she sounded she was able to tell when it was coming on and learned to go to her "safe place" while she felt that way.....It has something to do with people that are OCD and in great need to control! go figure....now tell her to leave you alone so you can write another chapter.....lol
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