Monday, July 31, 2006

a streetcar named desire

My lovely two-year old just finished an incredible display of angst and passion, bawling and yelling out "chocolate milk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" in such a fashion it makes me think that she at least rivals Marlon Brando and his famous "Stella!!!!!...."

In an attempt to get away and disarm her I went to the computer to write this post so you could get that whole "in the moment" feeling, but when I clicked to the IMDB website a stupid advertisement for the movie Vendetta kept coming up and wouldn't stop! even when I clicked it away! Yes, I understand that has to do with the whole premise of the movie, but even if I were slightly inclined to go see it, which I am not, having their dumb ads taking over my computer screen certainly doesn't make me excited about the show, just annoyed. Anyway.

I also went to the computer in order to do some friendly ignoring as to not feed the flaming fire within my lovely daughter (can I emphasis how lovely she is? I mean it). But she would not stop, and I'd gotten myself into the classic parental conundrum. Teach her that a tantrum will eventually get her what she wants? Or try and take a mental trip to a happy place somewhere else while she genuinely cries, laying on the floor at my feet.

She started into the tantrum as soon as there was an inkling that she wasn't going to get her way. Which left no room for negotiation (it's sort of possible with someone that age... sometimes), or time for me to reconsider her request. I prefer not to give my kids chocolate milk every time they ask for it, because they don't need the sugar. And they would drink it all day long. That said, it is just chocolate milk! But since she had so quickly gone out of the orbit of reality was I suppose to give in and cater to her excruciating pleas?

I didn't. I let her follow me around as I picked up the room. She was rather clingy, so I tried to hold her. That's tough with a thrashing child who wants to be near you and yet wants to forcefully declare her independence at the same time. I gave her a choice of juice or water and a minute later she calmed down enough to request the juice and tried to start right back into the routine slightly modified by screaming "juice box!!!!!". But I jumped on it and led my whimpering child to the table and pulled out the juice box. "Mommy," she said, "have a juice box with me." I love two-year olds.

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