It's not scary, it's cherry!
Ben was throwing things all morning and had to go in time-out like 324 times. I told her that the time-outs were fine (we do it too) but that he needs to know what's OK to do, not just what's not OK. I told him on our way back over there that if he starts to feel frustrated or angry, he needs to say "pillow please" and he can punch, hit, bite or throw a pillow all he wants. But its not OK to hurt people or animals.
At lunch, I fed him PB&J because I know he'll always eat it and it doesn't leave a lot of dishes for me to clean-up. He finished it before my food was even ready so I bribed him to stay put with some pie. Anyway, as I was doing my own lunch dishes (as in, washing, drying AND putting away so the kitchen would stay spotless) he starts freaking out in his highchair. He's screaming and wailing and carrying on through sobs and hiccups. Oh my. I rush over there like he's been shot, and he holds out both of his hands to me, crying "OUCHIE!!!!!!!"
I did not laugh. Believe me, it was hard.
I picked him up out of the highchair, washed his hands and face and told him he was fine and sent him on his way. See? No ouchies. He looks at his hands like I've performed a Mama miracle, kisses me and trots into the living room.
Later, before its time to go back to Clare-baby's house, I take him up in my arms, open the fridge and stick my finger right into the center of the cherry pie. I show it to him. He gasps and starts to freak out. We talk in Toddlerese.
"No ouchies! Red not blood. Mama fine. Cherry sauce. Mmmm. Tastes good. Cherry. No blood. No ouchies." I grab another finger full and stick it in his mouth. He says "Mmm. Cherry blood good." Whatever. Close enough.
He also says "Benjamin no need to be scared. It's OK. It's not scary, it's cherry."
That time, I did laugh.
oh, and thankfully the people did not come to see the house this morning, because the dog took it upon herself to go splunking into the garbage can and pull out a dirty diaper and eat it. in my living room. on my freshly steam-cleaned white carpet. agggghhhhh! anyway, michelle just called and they're coming at 2 p.m. so i'm going to skip out of here at like 1:30, go make sure it looks nice, and take the damn dog with me. she can sit in the van for an hour or so while i'm working. (no she won't die. its january, and i'll be sure to crack a window for her anyway)
At lunch, I fed him PB&J because I know he'll always eat it and it doesn't leave a lot of dishes for me to clean-up. He finished it before my food was even ready so I bribed him to stay put with some pie. Anyway, as I was doing my own lunch dishes (as in, washing, drying AND putting away so the kitchen would stay spotless) he starts freaking out in his highchair. He's screaming and wailing and carrying on through sobs and hiccups. Oh my. I rush over there like he's been shot, and he holds out both of his hands to me, crying "OUCHIE!!!!!!!"
I did not laugh. Believe me, it was hard.
I picked him up out of the highchair, washed his hands and face and told him he was fine and sent him on his way. See? No ouchies. He looks at his hands like I've performed a Mama miracle, kisses me and trots into the living room.
Later, before its time to go back to Clare-baby's house, I take him up in my arms, open the fridge and stick my finger right into the center of the cherry pie. I show it to him. He gasps and starts to freak out. We talk in Toddlerese.
"No ouchies! Red not blood. Mama fine. Cherry sauce. Mmmm. Tastes good. Cherry. No blood. No ouchies." I grab another finger full and stick it in his mouth. He says "Mmm. Cherry blood good." Whatever. Close enough.
He also says "Benjamin no need to be scared. It's OK. It's not scary, it's cherry."
That time, I did laugh.
oh, and thankfully the people did not come to see the house this morning, because the dog took it upon herself to go splunking into the garbage can and pull out a dirty diaper and eat it. in my living room. on my freshly steam-cleaned white carpet. agggghhhhh! anyway, michelle just called and they're coming at 2 p.m. so i'm going to skip out of here at like 1:30, go make sure it looks nice, and take the damn dog with me. she can sit in the van for an hour or so while i'm working. (no she won't die. its january, and i'll be sure to crack a window for her anyway)