My little Elsie all tears this morning. Every little thing setting her off. And me trying with all my might to be patient even as she refuses to comply. For example, adorning the little girl’s body in one of her many pretty dresses, purchased for…many a pretty penny in a fantasy time when the mother imagined she could dress the girl up like a silent doll…yeah, not happening. ‘Shirt on,’ Elsie repeats. And then in case the mother wasn’t listening, ‘SHIRT ON…SOCKS.’ The little girl has a sock fetish. You’re wearing socks! You are not wearing socks! Socks on. Socks off. All she wants are socks. And more socks. Because socks rocks. Oh, and shirts. And shirts. And shirts. And not the cute ones. The ugly stained ones. And guess what? Today’s she’s thinking of layering. I say, ‘This one or that one,’ because I heard that was good parenting, giving them a small amount of choice, the illusion of agency over their own life. ‘All them,’ she says, pulling a third shirt out of the drawer. Thank you, parenting articles on the web. For nothing. ‘You’re going to be hot,’ the mother tries again. The little girl stares blankly (and devilishly?) at the mother before hollering, ‘I WANT UNDERPANTS!’ The mother clenches her teeth. ‘Okay, Elsie, but then we’re going to have to take off your pants–’ ‘NO TAKE OFF!!!’…as if I had suggested putting her beloved Red Dog through the shredder. ‘But Elsie…’ ‘NO TAKE OFF. UNDERWEAR ON!!!’ Writhing, crying, face planting, more drama.
And with this final paroxysm, I come to understand (’cause sometimes I am just that astute) that the underpants are to be worn over her pants. Three shirts and a pair of pink panties on top of her jeans.
Is this her first fuck you?
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Damn, she’s fiesty! And so are you Momma Becs!
no photos???
I wasn’t sure a picture was appropriate for all that fiesty-ness. Photos to come…this week, Heather!
The illusion of agency – I like that one…though I’m thinking that may be all of us…but I’ve been reading buddhist books over the past two days so who knows.
haah! that last line made me laugh – in a sighing, let all my frustration out – kind of way! (=
THANKS! for putting words in my mouth. (for us tonight it was, unusually, a battle over dinner)
Ha, I have had the same problem; only I am trying to convince parents who each make 100,000 a year and send their three year old triplets to etiquette classes that dressing this way builds character. Keep up the good work Momma Becs
oh, that is so funny, and yeah, it doesn’t get better when they get more agile and start using conjunctions and saying things like, “I need to wash my fingers,” while running his hand on my cheek…
“why?”
“because you have poo on your face”….
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