Who knew such a request could so easily be mistaken for the worst thing I'd ever asked of a child ever.
On her way up the stairs Bekah started crying.
"I'm hungry! I'm hunnnngry! I'm hungreeeeeeeee!"
When she got to her room she couldn't find her clothes. Obviously only my supermom eyes could see all of her school clothes in the same drawer that they are always in. I pulled out a shirt...
"Not thaaat one! I want the dark blue one!"
Despite my evil, devious tendencies to ruin her day with the wrong shirt, I relinquished the desired shirt and left to get Jacob and Beau dressed. I picked out Jacob's clothes, and he changed into them. Miraculous. He is only three (almost four), you know. I was kind enough to help Beau with his clothes. He is only one (15 months), you know.
Then Bekah started yelling/crying again.
"I need you to help me get dressed!"
I ignored this. I was taking care of Beau. She showed up in Jacob's room naked.
"I'm itchy!"
"Okay, go get the lotion. It's in my bathroom."
"NOOO! I don't want anyone to see me naked!"
The logic eluded me, but Jacob totally caught on...
"Bekah, I don't want to see your bum!"
This set her wailing again. I requested she get the lotion again. She refused again.
"I don't want to go by myself!"
After avoiding her itchy cries for several minutes I finally gave in and walked with her to my room. I could see the lotion from my chair at my desk. She was standing five feet from it. But I wasn't standing next to her, so she could not possibly travel another inch to retrieve the lotion herself.
I gave in. Apparently she's already stubborn, mission accomplished. No need to teach her that anymore.
I squirted lotion on her hands.
"I can't rub it in! IcantIcantIcant! I can't reach the back!"
(Are you tired yet of this conversation? I am. We'll skip to the end...)
After finally making Bekah's lunch, calling my friend and telling her we'd be driving because someone burst into further hysterics and the thought of walking and missing her chance to swing on the swings, myself, Beau, Jacob, and my itchy but fully clothed puffy eyed oldest, most mature daughter got in the van and drove to school. Two minutes away. Where I sat and held her, wiped away her tear tracks, said a prayer with her to be happy. It was an honest effort, but the clincher was when I suggested that Belle, her baby bear sneak into school with her inside her small backpack pocket.
"You can rub her nose if you're feeling sad, okay?"
"Okay."
She waved her little pointer finger at me as she walked away, our secret code that means "I love you."
I need to go soon to pick her up.
Man, I hope she had a better day!
On her way up the stairs Bekah started crying.
"I'm hungry! I'm hunnnngry! I'm hungreeeeeeeee!"
When she got to her room she couldn't find her clothes. Obviously only my supermom eyes could see all of her school clothes in the same drawer that they are always in. I pulled out a shirt...
"Not thaaat one! I want the dark blue one!"
Despite my evil, devious tendencies to ruin her day with the wrong shirt, I relinquished the desired shirt and left to get Jacob and Beau dressed. I picked out Jacob's clothes, and he changed into them. Miraculous. He is only three (almost four), you know. I was kind enough to help Beau with his clothes. He is only one (15 months), you know.
Then Bekah started yelling/crying again.
"I need you to help me get dressed!"
I ignored this. I was taking care of Beau. She showed up in Jacob's room naked.
"I'm itchy!"
"Okay, go get the lotion. It's in my bathroom."
"NOOO! I don't want anyone to see me naked!"
The logic eluded me, but Jacob totally caught on...
"Bekah, I don't want to see your bum!"
This set her wailing again. I requested she get the lotion again. She refused again.
"I don't want to go by myself!"
After avoiding her itchy cries for several minutes I finally gave in and walked with her to my room. I could see the lotion from my chair at my desk. She was standing five feet from it. But I wasn't standing next to her, so she could not possibly travel another inch to retrieve the lotion herself.
I gave in. Apparently she's already stubborn, mission accomplished. No need to teach her that anymore.
I squirted lotion on her hands.
"I can't rub it in! IcantIcantIcant! I can't reach the back!"
(Are you tired yet of this conversation? I am. We'll skip to the end...)
After finally making Bekah's lunch, calling my friend and telling her we'd be driving because someone burst into further hysterics and the thought of walking and missing her chance to swing on the swings, myself, Beau, Jacob, and my itchy but fully clothed puffy eyed oldest, most mature daughter got in the van and drove to school. Two minutes away. Where I sat and held her, wiped away her tear tracks, said a prayer with her to be happy. It was an honest effort, but the clincher was when I suggested that Belle, her baby bear sneak into school with her inside her small backpack pocket.
"You can rub her nose if you're feeling sad, okay?"
"Okay."
She waved her little pointer finger at me as she walked away, our secret code that means "I love you."
I need to go soon to pick her up.
Man, I hope she had a better day!
2 comments:
And as we speak she's in her room throwing another fit. This is NOT her day. Why, why, WHY are the simplest things so hard?!
...and this only ever happens when you're on a deadline. If you're going to the park and in no particular hurry, they are perfectly compliant! I totally feel you. Such a funny story :)
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