Monday, August 13, 2012

Going round and round with my three-year-old

The boys (minus Cooper who was on an overnight date with Memaw and Papa) enjoyed the Indiana State Fair.

Last night, I tucked my sweet cherub, Collin into bed.  I smothered him with kisses and whispered I love you.  He smiled as his eye lids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.  It was such a precious sight!

This morning, I returned to his room eager to snuggle my little angel.  Somehow, during the night my angel lost his wings because  he woke in a devilish mood with a nasty scowl plastered on his face.  From the minute his feet hit the floor, everything in the world was wrong and he wasn't the least bit shy about telling me about it.

In disbelief, I glanced at my sweet little baby.  Since when did he become such a, a.....three-year-old!

And so we began going round by round to decide who truly was running the show.

Round One (7:09 a.m.):

Collin throws a piece of trash onto the floor.

Me:  Collin, you need to put that paper in the trash can, not the floor.

Collin (with every ounce of defiance):  NO

Time out one.

Round Two (7:15 a.m.):

Collin requests waffles for breakfast.  I prepare two waffles and place them on his favorite breakfast plate.  I place the plate in front of his chair.

Collin:  I don't want waffles.  I want cereal.

Me:  Well, this is breakfast.


Time out.

Round Three (7:30 a.m.):

Collin emerges from time out and sits back at the breakfast table.  The waffles have sat in front of his place for fifteen minutes and the syrup has caused the waffles to take on a soggy texture.

Collin is absolutely/in no way/don't even think about it/he can't be fooled going to have those waffles.


Time Out.

Round Four (7:45 a.m.):

I return to his room to retrieve him from time out.  When I walk in the room an odd, familiar aroma smacks me in the face.  I'm trying to guess the smell when I notice a white, pasty substance strewn all over a lamp, the floor, and the dresser.  I see an empty diaper rash cream tube crumbled up on the floor.

Collin shot me a look that said, "And you thought you'd win?"

I hand him a rag and we work together on removing the cream  from the walls and carpets.

From there, the morning improves.  The battle is over, but somehow I think there's still a little bit of a fight left in him.

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