Our littlest is quick to temper, really she’s always been that way. All the tricks I learned with the big kids seem to be lost on her. We give her two choices – she wants neither and falls into a pit of despair at the thought of having to choose something as terrible as a banana or an apple. We let her pick out her own clothes, she inevitably can’t decide and melts down on the floor of her bedroom in dramatic sobs until I give her two choices. It is often, when she’s particularly feisty or angry in public, that I will say, “It’s tough to be three.” I say it as if it’s a defense of my parenting strategy or to merely establish the fact that though she is a giant, she is only three-years old.
The other day Millie was in full three-year old mode. She was angry because it wasn’t time to watch a show, she was angry at the blocks that wouldn’t stack just right, angry that her water cup was empty and angry that I was sitting one inch too far away. It was just a bit much for her tiny self to handle. At the mention of lunch time Millie fell to the floor (her signature move) and wailed, and kicked, and screamed. I calmly sat on the couch and patiently waited it out.
Note: I do not always patiently wait these things out. Often I scream and yell with her, but this particular day the drama was so evident I could choose to sit and simply watch the show.
Five For Flying 