The flowers in my heart
Yesterday, Sprout refused to calm down during quiet time, which she was spending on the bed with me while I nursed Junebug. I banished her to her room, where she proceeded to have a fit, vowing to find the "best solution"* to get out of her room. I ended up letting her out to go the bathroom, and I went in there with her to talk it over.
Me: You are very upset because I made you go to you room.
Sprout, making her hands into claws and growl-crying: Yes, I'm so angry!
Me: I'm upset, too, and sad that we aren't able to have quiet time together. I didn't want to have to make you go to your room.
Sprout: Did I damage the flowers in your heart, Mom, when I didn't respect your sleep? I'm sorry!
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* J got home soon after, while we still working through it, and she told him, "I tried a million solutions to get out of my room! I tried this book, this cookie cutter, this sock!"
Me: You are very upset because I made you go to you room.
Sprout, making her hands into claws and growl-crying: Yes, I'm so angry!
Me: I'm upset, too, and sad that we aren't able to have quiet time together. I didn't want to have to make you go to your room.
Sprout: Did I damage the flowers in your heart, Mom, when I didn't respect your sleep? I'm sorry!
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* J got home soon after, while we still working through it, and she told him, "I tried a million solutions to get out of my room! I tried this book, this cookie cutter, this sock!"