Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Tantrum Style, Toddleator E

She doesn't have many full-on tantrums, and what she has exhibited I think are experiments in copying her elder sister's behavior.  Lucky Toddler gets to see first hand what natural consequences befall the Firstborn with some of her behavior.  My consistency has to be switched on, I think in recent past I've been prey to the "she's just a baby girl" mental track, and I've had to step out of that.  She's not a baby anymore, she's very aware, very intense, very goofy, incredibly sensitive, smart, and verbose.  It's amazing to me that we don't give them more credit as little as they are.  They know exactly what they want and do what they can to get it.  Watching a vid from more than a year ago, I saw The Two sitting opposite each other, The Man mostly addressing Miss Monkey, while Baby E bangs her cup on highchair tray looking expectantly for the attention she knows it will garner.  Toddleator E knows already that she has to go up to her room to tantrum, then sit in recovery.  Most times she'll come out to say, "I done cryeeng, Mama."  Then she tries to take herself out of recovery by sitting a few moments, then "Mama, I done reecov'ree," which sometimes leads into a small power struggle with me because "I say when you're out of recovery, sweetheart, sit back down."
Most times she ends up in bedroom time because she can't communicate fast enough in situations with her sister (yet), and the smaller will simply clobber the bigger.  She's gotten some good shots in on her sister, surprising Miss Monkey a couple of times enough to learn she doesn't want to get into a hitting contest with her.  There are times when I have to sing the "uh-oh" song for them both and they end up in their room hollering together, "I love you both. Work it out, and when you're calm and feeling friendly to each other again, come sit in recovery."
There are only two times I can think of that E has gone Atomic, completely off the edge of reason, and she's been relegated to her bed (or I've wrestled her into the car seat), where she caterwauled seemingly without end until sleep overcame her (must be genetic).  Most other times it's a power struggle between what she wants to do and what I need her aimed toward, i.e. homeward bound pre-dinner on the tricycle.  She's doing well on her tricycle, and last evening she doesn't want to go home.  There's a choice, you can ride your trike home or I can carry you.  Pause. "Uh-oh,  so sad, mommy has to carry you" (and the trike, grateful I've the strength).  I hike the caterwauling, whining sack of potatoes on one side, and the tricycle on t'other side the short distance home, where eventually she calms enough and moves on to something else while I get dinner situated.
So it goes!
Blessed are we.
:  )  <3





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