Bad Choice
I’m working on my discipline techniques with Abbie. I know spanking or otherwise hitting is a no-no. I’ve discovered that time-outs are still useless at this age as she’s unable to make the connection between the punishment and her misbehavior and hops off her pedestal immediately, then she thinks it’s a great game as daddy repeatedly lifts her back on to her pedestal. I’m weaning away from yelling since that just intimidates her without helping her understand what she did wrong, although it does help me feel better. Plus it could teach her to yell, assuming she learns to talk.
That leaves me with the standbys of keeping her out of situations where she could misbehave, redirecting her when she does misbehave, and telling her in simple terms that she’s done something wrong. Ellie likes to say she made a “bad choice,” implying that she could have made a better choice by coloring on paper instead of the china cabinet.
Abbie made a particularly bad choice yesterday morning, which gave me a chance to practice my disciplinary techniques. The boys were napping, Abbie was happily watching television, and I had laundry to do. I knew the boys would wake for lunch soon, so I prepared their lunch in anticipation of halting my laundry sorting and rushing to feed screaming little men if need be. I poured water in their bottles, dropped frozen food cubes in their dish, and prepared Abbie’s pre-lunch snack of sliced to placate her while the boys eat. Then I retreated to the laundry room.
This was my first mistake; I left Abbie in a situation where she could misbehave. I heard banging in the kitchen as I sorted, but I assumed, or possibly hoped, Abbie was throwing an approved toy across the floor. I heard the boys stirring as I returned to the kitchen, and I knew I needed to microwave food quickly, but instead I discovered what was clunking in the kitchen.
The first thing I saw was Abbie’s nose in the refrigerator. The child lock I installed on it works great to deter her, assuming I remember to lock it, which I could have sworn I did. Abbie’s frigid fingers revealed that I did not lock it. Fortunately, with all of the messy things contained with the coldness that she could have spread across the floor, she opted to eat the peaches I prepared for her earlier. She spilled a couple peach chunks and a little juice, but otherwise the only consequence was she had fewer peaches to eat during pre-lunch. No big deal.
There rest of the kitchen was a big deal. Those bottles of water I’d carefully poured for the increasingly fidgeting boys were now on the floor. Abbie had reached onto the counter and pulled them to the floor to drink from them, play with their lids, or possibly practice her pouring skills by dumping water on the floor. She also grabbed the formula can, which I could have sworn I left out of her reach, and tried mixing formula in the bottles. Not knowing the correct number of scoops to use, she dumped too much powder in the bottles, and then apparently poured powder on the floor to mix with the spilled water. The result was she wasted a quarter of a can of formula, the floors were a sticky mess, I had to redo the bottle preparations, and the boys were starting to complain.
I ran down the disciplinary options in my head. Scream? No, I need to stop doing that. Hyperventilate? Already doing it, but I need to retain consciousness. Cry? No, that will just let her know she broke me.
I told her she made a bad choice once I regained my breath. Then I kicked her outside while I cleaned up, letting her back inside as I returned to preparing lunch. The food cubes stayed in the microwave too long while I poured water in the bottles, and overheated to a dangerous temperature. I popped their container in the freezer to cool them, and watched the container fall right back out as the freezer’s more permanent residents reclaimed their space.
The resulting mess could have been worse. A third of the scalding hot peas landed on the floor. Another third stayed in the container. The final third splattered across my bare arm.
I ran down the pain-coping options in my head. Scream? Ordinarily no, but I’m not screaming at Abbie, so go for it. I let out a yell that sounded like the word “God,” but remembered that cursing around Abbie is a bad choice. The rest of my screaming was unintelligible until the pain subsided. I hope she learned from my good choice.
That leaves me with the standbys of keeping her out of situations where she could misbehave, redirecting her when she does misbehave, and telling her in simple terms that she’s done something wrong. Ellie likes to say she made a “bad choice,” implying that she could have made a better choice by coloring on paper instead of the china cabinet.
Abbie made a particularly bad choice yesterday morning, which gave me a chance to practice my disciplinary techniques. The boys were napping, Abbie was happily watching television, and I had laundry to do. I knew the boys would wake for lunch soon, so I prepared their lunch in anticipation of halting my laundry sorting and rushing to feed screaming little men if need be. I poured water in their bottles, dropped frozen food cubes in their dish, and prepared Abbie’s pre-lunch snack of sliced to placate her while the boys eat. Then I retreated to the laundry room.
This was my first mistake; I left Abbie in a situation where she could misbehave. I heard banging in the kitchen as I sorted, but I assumed, or possibly hoped, Abbie was throwing an approved toy across the floor. I heard the boys stirring as I returned to the kitchen, and I knew I needed to microwave food quickly, but instead I discovered what was clunking in the kitchen.
The first thing I saw was Abbie’s nose in the refrigerator. The child lock I installed on it works great to deter her, assuming I remember to lock it, which I could have sworn I did. Abbie’s frigid fingers revealed that I did not lock it. Fortunately, with all of the messy things contained with the coldness that she could have spread across the floor, she opted to eat the peaches I prepared for her earlier. She spilled a couple peach chunks and a little juice, but otherwise the only consequence was she had fewer peaches to eat during pre-lunch. No big deal.
There rest of the kitchen was a big deal. Those bottles of water I’d carefully poured for the increasingly fidgeting boys were now on the floor. Abbie had reached onto the counter and pulled them to the floor to drink from them, play with their lids, or possibly practice her pouring skills by dumping water on the floor. She also grabbed the formula can, which I could have sworn I left out of her reach, and tried mixing formula in the bottles. Not knowing the correct number of scoops to use, she dumped too much powder in the bottles, and then apparently poured powder on the floor to mix with the spilled water. The result was she wasted a quarter of a can of formula, the floors were a sticky mess, I had to redo the bottle preparations, and the boys were starting to complain.
I ran down the disciplinary options in my head. Scream? No, I need to stop doing that. Hyperventilate? Already doing it, but I need to retain consciousness. Cry? No, that will just let her know she broke me.
I told her she made a bad choice once I regained my breath. Then I kicked her outside while I cleaned up, letting her back inside as I returned to preparing lunch. The food cubes stayed in the microwave too long while I poured water in the bottles, and overheated to a dangerous temperature. I popped their container in the freezer to cool them, and watched the container fall right back out as the freezer’s more permanent residents reclaimed their space.
The resulting mess could have been worse. A third of the scalding hot peas landed on the floor. Another third stayed in the container. The final third splattered across my bare arm.
I ran down the pain-coping options in my head. Scream? Ordinarily no, but I’m not screaming at Abbie, so go for it. I let out a yell that sounded like the word “God,” but remembered that cursing around Abbie is a bad choice. The rest of my screaming was unintelligible until the pain subsided. I hope she learned from my good choice.
posted by Matt at
11:47 PM
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