For some time now I've been calling Punkin my "spirited child" -- complete with air quotes. That's really just a nice way of saying she's spoiled rotten. Being in the throes of the terrible twos (which really goes well into their third year, a fact nobody tells you) is not a good combination with "spirited."
She is a very impatient child. From what my mother tells me, she must be just like I was at her age. I'm sorry, Mom.
No answer is ever good enough for Punkin. "What are we having for dinner, Mommy?"
"Some corn muffins."
"That's it. That's all we're having."
"WHAT ELSE?!!??" she'll yell, clearly not satisfied.
And she thinks that her father and I can magically create things out of thin air by the simple act of her saying "please." "I want to see more Christmas lights, Mommy."
"Well, there aren't any right here. Keep your eyes open and maybe you'll see some more."
"Please, Mommy. Pleeeease. I WANT MORE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!!!"
Sheesh, if I had that kind of power I wouldn't be wishing for more Christmas lights. A million bucks, maybe.
But slowly, ever so slowly, her behavior is starting to improve. It's one of those things that you don't really notice -- it kind of sneaks up on you, like the incoming tide at the beach. One minute you're dozing in the sun and the next minute the waves are lapping at the edge of your towel. One day you just realize that you haven't had to yell as much, haven't had to threaten time outs as much, that requests are met with compliance instead of defiance.
You realize that you actually enjoy spending time with your preschooler. And that you like the person she's becoming.
Even if it means she's growing up.
6 years ago