Most of the stories I relate here are more to the innocent side of the spectrum. Examples of the kid’s naivete, amusing growing pains, that sort of thing. Lest this somewhat stilted sampling of the kids’ lives give the wrong impression, here’s an example of life with the lass when things don’t go so well.
Although, when it’s all said and done, I still find it amusing.
First, a little setup.
The lass woke up and came downstairs, did her typical morning ritual and then was served breakfast by the Wife. On her way to sit down, the lass dropped what was on her plate onto the floor.
Rather than do something about it (the sensible thing to do), she stood rooted to the spot gathering dark clouds. When the Wife told her that maybe, perhaps, possibly, it might be a good idea to clean up the mess the lass reacted in a completely sensible way. She unleashed hell.
Granted, it’s hell from a 5 year old, but the screaming was really something to behold. On balance, it didn’t go well for the lass either. She was put in the corner, where she continued her tirade and antics, at which point the Wife told her she’d be going to bed early.
And like that, the storm passed, the skies cleared, angels sang and there was peace unto the land.
Until about 7:15 that evening.
I suggested to the Wife that she start early on getting the lass to bed because my expectation was that the lass would employ every stall tactic in the book, ultimately resulting in no early bed time. The Wife agreed, stating she was thinking the same thing. Kid’s are talented like that. They’re also unpredictable and my expectation fell well short of the reality that was about to unfold.
The Wife went up and informed the lass that it was time for her to get ready to go to bed. I know she did so because the scream that emanated from upstairs raised the hackles on the dogs’ backs. Their ears were perked up and nervously twitching trying to pinpoint the approximate location of the source. Our older female Shepherd began pacing.
Then, I heard a second scream. Almost identical to the first. If there are job openings for “harpy” I’d say the lass has a decent resume filler for it. The dogs continued pacing, unsure of what to do. I, for my part, remained passive on the couch but ready to head up if it seemed like things might be spiraling out of control.
After the third scream, I was ready to head up, but then I heard the Wife’s voice. There was a distinct bemused quality to it. It occurred to me that getting between a mama bear and her cub isn’t the smartest place to go and, considering that it didn’t sound like things were out of control, I continued to wait.
There were two more shrieks of fury from upstairs, and then all was quiet. By now, it was about 7:25. The dogs had stopped pacing and were lying quiet, but alert. I figured now was a good time to head up and see how things were.
The Wife was in the boy’s room helping him with Legos. The lass was in her room, lying on the bed with her arms crossed, the light on, and thunder heads swirling around her. I went in to say good night and she shrugged me off. So I turned around without any fuss and turned the light off as I headed out.
That got her out of bed.
I whirled around, pointed to her and told her “Turn the light back on, and you’ll go to bed early again tomorrow.” She, in turn, whirled around and grabbed the first thing within reach to throw at me.
Standing my ground, I told her “Throw that at me or anywhere, and you’ll go to bed early again the next night. If you kick anything, you’ll go to bed early again. If you scream at me or your mother again, you’ll go to bed early. If you mess your bed up, you’ll fix it and then you’ll go to bed early.” She climbed into bed, still with thunderheads swirling. And her arms once again, crossed.
Finally, I told her “Get out of that bed again, and you’ll go to bed early again.”
The Wife filled me in on the lass’ earlier shrieking. The first was when the Wife told her it was her bedtime. The second was after she told the lass to pickup her sleeping stuff from her brother’s room (the lass had spent the previous night “sleeping over” in her brother’s room.) The lass refused, leading to the third scream when the Wife threw her stuff out of her brother’s room. The fourth occurred when the Wife and the boy locked themselves into his room so the lass could not follow. The fifth was, as near as I can tell, just for good measure.
When bedtime arrived for the boy, he didn’t offer any resistance. I walked out and passed the lass’ room without a second thought. But I found out later that the lass had apologized to the Wife, whom further informed me that the lass wanted me to come and say goodnight to her.
So I did. Her cheeks were still wet from tears. But she was half asleep as well, or at least, she was mumbling in that way. She gave me a big hug. I gave her a kiss, told her to get a good night’s sleep, and that I loved her.
And left it at that.
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Struggling Minds / Battling Wills / Raising Kids = HARD WORK