Never Try to Reason with a Tired 3-year-old.
Yesterday I was racing to get all three kids ready and into the car to go meet Mike, and Ellie was just not moving. I had strapped Charlie in his car seat and carried him upstairs. Chloe even had her shoes on (she never has her shoes on) and was meandering slowly in the right direction. And Ellie was still not moving. I put some shorts (back) on her and grabbed her sandals, figuring I could put them on later, and tried again to guide her toward the van. At this point she began to protest:
"No! Tiny Bear needs a drink!"
I told her, "That's fine, give Tiny Bear a drink, and let's go."
"No! Tiny Bear has to have a drink!"
Yes, Tiny Bear is a tiny teddy bear, her favorite toy. I was at a loss and ten minutes late, so I again told her, "Just give him a pretend drink. We've got to go." And I escorted her to the van.
She screamed, really wailed, for the first ten minutes of the drive. At first I just listened, comforting myself with the knowledge that every other mother knows how it is to drive with screaming in her ears.
(Incidentally . . . This, you male chauvinists out there, is where the bad women drivers theory was born. I'd like to see how YOU'd do under the same circumstances. Oh yeah, and the back of my seat was being kicked, too.)
After ten minutes I piped up too, and told her it really needed to stop. I took a deep breath, and in a slightly calmer voice, I tried to help her resolve her concern.
"Ellie, are you still crying because you want to give Tiny Bear a drink?"
"(whimper, whimper) yes (whimper, whimper.)"
"Well, Ellie, he's just pretend so you can give him a pretend drink." And I continued to demonstrate how to give a pretend animal a pretend drink. (Hey, I still had one hand on the wheel.)
"Noooo!" She continued to cry.
"Well then, Ellie, if you can wait a little while we'll be at a house where you can get him a real drink."
The crying stopped. After a short thoughtful pause, Ellie explained, condescendingly, "Mom-my . . . Tiny Bear can't have a real drink."
"Oh," I said. "You're right."
And that's where we left it.
One minute later she was asleep.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Reality Check
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8 comments:
I'm impressed that you had the patience to talk her though giving tiny bear a drink while you were being pummeled and screamed at.
And I'm glad she set you straight on how to quench the thirst of a stuffed bear.
I'm so glad you recorded this. The most abstract kid conversations are the hardest to remember. Way to survive that one. I'm pretty sure that the concept of hurry is really not within a preschoolers grasp. Dang!
oooo - sounds like this was a doozie. that ellie. i just read your comment on kate's blog about her and laughed my guts out. joey too. we've got to hear more about that story!
poor ellie and mommy! loved the story though.
My Dad used to say it was easier to negotiate with a terrorist than a 3-year-old.
I like your scrawly writing of tiny bear's name on the photo. I remember when you would use our Kid Pix program to draw pictures from Where the Sidewalk Ends. You've still got style.
Tiny Bear has had more that his share of drama. He's been lost and found so many times I have lost count. We all really love him and hate him for bringing Ellie so much happiness and misery.
Crazy kids. Sounds like a fight that could not be won. Also sounds like something LD would say. I wish I could've seen you on my trip out. That would have been fun. We should to a roommate reunion sometime...it is just hard since we are really quite spread out.
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