Instead of Sweetgirl, we should have named he Trouble-ella. She surely does know how to find it. And get into it. And create it. Good grief, where does she get this? (Shush it, family! Kindly.) After extensive and exhausting conversations about how important sleep is to everyone (except for her, apparently), and how she can NOT get up at 5:50 in the morning and march into brother’s room practically shouting “BRUDDER, Are you AWAKE YET?”,we thought maybe, just maybe she would get it. Nope. This morning, she got up at 5:55 (at least she waited five more minutes, right?), and promptly marched (I heard the Tiny Feet That Make Elephant Sounding Footsteps) announce her departure from her room. She did not shout. Yay. She did, however, climb right into bed with him and whisper-shout “Brudder, I will snuggle with you until you wake up, OKAY?”.
Cute? Yes indeedy. Disappointing? You betcha.
I went into Sweetboy’s room and he was lying there, poor thing, just looking at me like, “Why? Why is she four? Why is she loud? Why is she in my room at 5:55 in the morning?” And this, from a child who gets up early himself. I asked them to at least play quietly until 6:30 when they could go downstairs. They did.
Far too shortly after that, someone, and let’s just call that someone Trouble-ella, started stomping around yelling for all to hear, “I haf to get dressed now Brudder!”. As if her feet hadn’t done enough talking for her yet. All of this by 6:38 in the morning. How do I know that it was 6:38 in the morning, you ask? Why wasn’t I back to sleep, you ask? The feet. They are loud. From here to there and there to here. Constant. Little. Loud. Feet. Early in the morning. Sigh…
A couple of drawer slams later, I heard The Feet. I leapt out of bed, to see what was the matter, when from her bedroom, there arose such a clatter. No, seriously. It was just. Like. That. I calmly told her that Mama had to put her into her room and close the door for a time-out. She had disobeyed me
nine two times too many. She said, and I quote, “NO!”. Word of Mercy!! That child is going to put me into an early grave. Mostly because I’m going to be completely sleep deprived and think I’m driving through a coffee shop, when in reality I’m driving literally right into a coffee shop. And that will be it. The end. I’m just a bit over-tired.
So, after much weeping and gnashing of teeth and banging of doors and what-not, I walked in during a brief couple of seconds where she had quieted down a tad and got down on her level (See? I was listening SuperNanny!). I tried to calmly remind her why it’s not okay to disobey. I’m trying to work on the heart issues here, but Sweet Moses, it’s hard with this four-year old. Is is this hard with all newly minted four-year olds?
Sweetgirl’s time in
pergatory time-out having ended, she quickly hugged me and walked downstairs again. She plopped next to Sweetboy on the couch and proceeded to tell him how “mama was meaner to me. She told me it’s not okay to disobey, Brudder. And my eyes, they are crying. See? They wet.”
Oh. My. Word. Trouble, I know thy name. Yes. Yes indeedy.