Anne’s language has taken a complete uptick. She is now experiencing a new frustration. The old frustration was “I can’t make myself understood.” The new frustration is: “I am understood but I’m not getting my way.”
For instance, today she informed Brian in no uncertain terms of her following requirements: “Call Gunkle. Call Gunkle. And wanna play. Wanna play. And puppy. And Papa. Call. Please please please please. Thank you.”
Subjects, predicates, nouns, verbs. I know fourteen year olds that can’t make their demands so clearly known.
Over and over.
Ever tried to reason with a toddler? 
Most of the time, I manage to be pretty consistent as a parent. I manage to keep the rules the same, no matter where we are or when we are there. Anne is a pretty easy kid because she has a lot of routine and consistency in her life. When she tries monkey business like bossing or whining etc., we’re pretty good about laying down the law, cognizant that you don’t create a great kid in day and nor do you wreck them in a day.
But every once in a while, I can’t help but laugh.
Anne has been teething her two-year molars this week which means “all hands on deck but only if your hands are Mummy’s“. So I’ve been run off my feet with a clingy little monkey that is always holding her teeth and saying “All done” to the hurting, unable to even go to the bathroom without “Mumma…Mumma!” Then on Saturday, she pitched off a play structure, head-first. She only fell about 8 inches off a step but since her centre of gravity is so high, she landed right on her head. (I have a theory: Cats land on their feet. Toddlers land on their heads.) She had a nasty bump and bruise along with a good fright. All week, she’s been rather…well…whiny. I don’t mind much as I recognise she’s dealing with a lot lately so I’m rather forgiving. But after a week, my patience is wearing thin, my back is aching from carrying her around and I’m ready to echo her sentiments “All done”….and reclaim my private bathroom time.
So tonight at supper, she doesn’t want to eat anything. And every single sentence starts with “I want” except she doesn’t want any food, just wants to play. “I wanna play. I wanna play. I wanna play. IwannaplayIwannaplayIwannaplay.” After trying everything to get some food in the child, I finally say “Enough whining or you go to your room.” in my very best “Mummy-is-in-charge-and-I-will-not-be-bossed-by-a-toddler” voice.
And she stares up at me with her big, blue eyes, round as saucers then slowly and methodically…farts. Loud and long. For a sustained period.All while staring unblinking up at me. Then she gives me this huge grin, all teeth out, like “WHO’S MAD NOW?”
I almost crawled under the table I laughed so hard.
So much for that discipline moment.
