You can tell Rowan a lot of things.
You can tell her what sound a cow makes. You can tell her how to drink out of a big-kid cup. You can tell her incessantly about the kid at school who pinched you. She'll listen in an interested kind of way.
Yep, you can tell Rowan a lot of things. Just don't think about telling her what to do.
Yep, you can tell Rowan a lot of things. Just don't think about telling her what to do.
Don't tell her that she has to sit in her high chair. She'll stiffen her legs in a way that makes it impossible to get them through the openings and refuse her cooperation until presented with a compelling reason to want to sit down. (For the record, milk, Clif Bars for Kids and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse all qualify as compelling reasons.)
Don't tell her that she has to participate in circle time at gymnastics. She'll wriggle free at her first opportunity -- no matter how exciting the activities are -- and crawl out of the circle like a baby on a mission. And if you try to bring her back, she'll throw herself to the ground and scream until everyone takes note of just how much she doesn't want to go for a lap ride or make thunder with her hands.
Don't tell her that she has to participate in circle time at gymnastics. She'll wriggle free at her first opportunity -- no matter how exciting the activities are -- and crawl out of the circle like a baby on a mission. And if you try to bring her back, she'll throw herself to the ground and scream until everyone takes note of just how much she doesn't want to go for a lap ride or make thunder with her hands.
Don't tell her that she has to get out of the bathtub. Ever.
Clean up the toys. Drain out all the water. She'll just scramble from one end of the empty tub to the other with a devilish laugh and a sly grin until Mom finally has to step into the tub to snatch her up, kicking and screaming. Every. Single. Night.
Clean up the toys. Drain out all the water. She'll just scramble from one end of the empty tub to the other with a devilish laugh and a sly grin until Mom finally has to step into the tub to snatch her up, kicking and screaming. Every. Single. Night.
Don't tell her that she should be walking like all those other 15-month-olds. She'll just insist on crawling even more...especially on the neighborhood sidewalks and the mulch-filled playground.
And speaking of playgrounds, definitely don't tell her that socks and shoes are non-negotiable in 50-degree weather. The more you put them back on, the faster she removes them.
People probably walk by the park in the afternoon and say, "Oh look, the barefoot baby is back." And then they probably give a sympathetic look to my mom, because anybody who's had a kid like Rowan knows it's not negligence.
It's defeat.
People probably walk by the park in the afternoon and say, "Oh look, the barefoot baby is back." And then they probably give a sympathetic look to my mom, because anybody who's had a kid like Rowan knows it's not negligence.
It's defeat.
Oh, Rowan. If she could figure out a way to wriggle more than just her arms out of the jacket, that'd be off, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment