So Morgan’s growing up. Fast. And she’s discovering a newfound independence a bit faster than I’d like. Don’t get me wrong, I love that I’m raising a spirited, fiercely independent, proud and beautiful little girl. But sometimes her “independence” doesn’t mesh with my need for order and control.
I managed to get both kids, their jackets, sippies, lunch boxes, and book bags in record time. I was actually thinking “wow, it’s going to be a great night. We may even get home with time to play outside”. The kids were wound up, but happy.
After a bit of running around the daycare sidewalk (both my kids laughing evilly and teasing me because I couldn’t ‘catch’ them), I opened both doors to my car and encouraged the kids to climb in. And they did. Just as I was about to pat myself on the back…well…
Jake was in and buckled. However, at that moment, Morgan realized that being able to climb into her car seat meant that she could climb ALL OVER the car. As she bounced around the car, I failed at catching her. Once I did have her in her seat, she refused to sit up straight so I could buckle her. And she’s stubborn once she decides she’s not going to cooperate.
So I lifted her out of the car, got down on her level, looked her in the eye and told her I needed her to be good and get in her seat. A picture perfect attempt at reasoning with a 2-year-old. Yeah, I know, you don’t have to say it…2 year olds don’t reason…
Then it happened. She hit me. Not in a ‘malicious I want to hurt you’ way. But in a ‘I’m going to test this situation and see how far I can get’. I was shocked (why I don’t know, my son did the same thing at this age). I calmly picked her up, walked back up to the sidewalk, sat her down on the sidewalk, explained that she was in time out, and took three steps away.
Normally, time outs in our house are filled with an overdramatic cry of “NOOOOOO”, several attempts at leading my kids back to their time out spot, and a bunch of crying and throwing themselves across the floor. Not today. She was shocked. I completely caught her by surprise. After thirty seconds of her staring up at me, in shock and awe that time outs can actually occur outside the four walls of our house, I knew she’d turned back into the sweet little angel she is.
I got back down, reminded her of why I’d put her in time out, she apologized, and we hugged and kissed. A perfect Supernanny moment, if I do say so myself. And, as I got her buckled in, I had to pat myself on the back. I may not be winning the war, but I certainly won the battle.