Another myth: this French parenting thing about regimented mealtimes and no other snacks. Totally would not work with my girl, who struggles to keep her weight up anyhow. You know what? If she asks for sheer-yos (Cheerios) she gets some sheer-yos. HEY ZJESTIKA ARE YOU STILL READING? I gave up on the regimented mealtimes.
This morning we were at our wits end by 10:30. I’d gotten her into her highchair with sheer-yos, but it was just way too early for the lunch-diaper-nap cycle to start. “Let’s make sugar cookies!” I thought. “A brilliant way to kill an hour!” I thought. I got out my cookbook, gave her spoons and cups to play with, and got all Betty Crocker on the kitchen.
Then I got to the part where you have to let the dough rest for three hours or it won’t be workable. AAAARRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHH
It’s really a quite hilarious book about how French children amuse themselves and wait patiently for meals while their mothers have a wine-soaked brunch a couple of blocks away.
(Note:this review is based on the excerpts my wife read me, may not actually be true)
My brother in law was dating a woman that had a toddler for a while, that girl I nicknamed The Brain because she was clearly constantly plotting world domination.
Once she said to my mother in law she hated her mother and my BIL, she said her real dad had a gun (he was in the army) so she was going to steal it and shoot her mom and my BIL til they were dead. My MIL told her WHOA do not talk about killing my son, you don’t say those kinds of things! So she replied ok ok I won’t shoot him, but I’m still going to kill mommy.
I only count to three, but I talk more in between, so it’s probably the same.
This made me think, I don’t remember how long it’s been since I got to 3 with my daughter. At 2, it’s game over and she caves. The funny thing is that we started this when she was two, and the serious consequences was only that Daddy put the shirt on for her, despite her crying and struggling.
I think it does help to save the 1, 2, 3 and not use it daily.
ETA: My mother’s 3 was “the wooden spoon.” That hurt and we didn’t get to 3 very many times.
Hehehehe. I used to be a picky eater until the Great Food Robbery
Mom: Eat your food
Me: No!
Dad: <Not getting involved>
Mom: Eat your food or there will be trouble
Me: Don’t wanna!!!
Mom: Eat your food or you are not leaving the table!
Dad: <Keeps eating his food, head down, no eye contact with anyone>
Me: Hate this food. Never eating it EVER!!
Mom: I’m warning you, young man!
Dad: <Leans over and starts tucking into my food>
Me: Hey! What?!?!
Mom: :dubious:
Dad: <Cleans my plate>
Me: :mad:
Mom:We’re done. Next meal in three hours.
My friend’s eldest daughter had just got her first set of glasses and was running round looking very adorable in them. I started off a conversation along the lines of “Are you helping your daddy look after the new twins?” and she started telling me how she and mummy and daddy all loved the new babies and how she was going to look after them and take care of them and while she was around anyone bothering them would get stabbed through the heart. With a sword.
Ooooookay. Perhaps Almira may grow up to become a very a protective mother.
I think that’s part of the trick right there – don’t be too worried about creative clothing (or diet, though there are health issues there) choices; the important thing is for the kid to make the choice. Conflicts around that are significantly lessened when the parents aren’t fretting or agonizin over the kid making the “wrong” choice.
Teenagers are easy, just remember they think they’re adults. If you think in terms of “oh, she has her own opinions, and she’s making her own choices, because she’s not me and has her own tastes and preferences” you’ll have a better outcome than “she’s rebelling against the duly constituted authority of her parents, time to crack down.” Some things are illegal or objectively harmful, of course, but beyond that different isn’t the same as wrong; the parents’ job is to provide a safety net.
In hindsight that woulda been the thing to do. Although, then we wouldn’t have kitty and star-shaped cookies now, and she wouldn’t meow and sing “wingle wingle a-a-arrrrr, hawa wanna a-a-arrrrr” as she eats them. And that’s totally worth it.
:mad: