“Okay, Bug, we’ll work it out.”
Once we reached the store, I parked the car then met Nola at her door. She climbed into my arms and I found a way to place her comfortably on my hip.
“Come on, Bud, let’s go,” I said to a crabby faced Miles. “What’s wrong, Bud?”
He stomped his foot, folded his arms and mumbled, “I want mom to hold me too.”
I stared off dramatically as the quick and easy shopping trip I had planned began to fade from my reality. “Bud, I have to hold Nola because she forgot her shoes, you can both sit in the cart once we get inside, or you could push the cart if you want.” I was hoping to earn brownie points with the cart pushing activity. Normally my kids fight over who gets to push the cart but today Nola would surely be riding.
“No, I want mom to hold me too!” he snapped crossing his arms.
“Fine,” I answered. “Nola and I are just going to go then.” Were we really going to go, absolutely not, but I had tried this approach in the past with much success and was banking on it working again. But do you think it did? Not for a second. My stubborn child, who actually acquired the gene from his mother, stood his ground. I hated to have my four year old beat me in a face-off, but a crowded parking lot was no place to teach him a lesson.
So I returned to the car and saw that he was still knotted up with his arms folded tightly. I gently explained to him that we were shopping for groceries that would accompany us to our much anticipated cabin trip. His ears perked up and the wheels in his head began to turn. Miles would live on a lake if he could so I knew the word cabin would catch his attention.
Miles ultimately agreed to exit the car but there was a trade off, I had to hold him. So, I grabbed his left hand with my right then struggled to hold Nola with my left arm. She’s a skinny little girl but still weighs almost fifty pounds, two hands would have definitely served me better. When we finally reached the cart corral, I breathed a sigh of relief as I set her down. I placed Miles in the bed of the cart and Nola in the front seat. Her legs barely fit through those toddler holes but we eventually muscled them in.
Let the picking begin. Prior to this summer my kids got along splendidly. They received the mom look from time to time but we never had that many problems. But now, at ages four and six, they had learned to annoy each other.
“Mom! Miles keeps touching me!”
“No I don’t”
“Yes you do, Bud, I just saw you,” I replied.
“I’m just petting her arm.”
“Well, stop petting her arm.”
“Yeah, stop petting my arm.”
You can see where this is going…nowhere fast. Here were a few of my not so unique catch phrases:
“I’m going to pull both of you out of this cart if you keep this up.”
“We are going to leave without getting anything if you don’t stop.”
“Stop arguing, you are making a scene.”
This is the one that really got them: “You are not going to eat any of those little cookies on the way home.” Silence.
“But we want to eat those cookies.”
“Well, keep it up and you won’t.”
To make a long story short, my kids did not have cookies on the way home. Instead, they sat in silence. Miles was sad and Nola was bitter. In the past, a sharp look put my kids in their place so this punishment, their first real punishment, was going to be memorable.
They remained quiet on entering our house and soon their aunt, my sister, joined us. We were in the kitchen and I was still a bit crabby about my shopping experience therefore exhaled my angst in my sister’s direction. Nola, who was sitting in the other room yelled, “I can here you!”
Oops! Sorry, Bug. How about we make a deal, I will watch what I say and where I say it, and you stop fighting with your brother. I think that it’s a pretty good trade off, don’t you?
He stomped his foot, folded his arms and mumbled, “I want mom to hold me too.”
I stared off dramatically as the quick and easy shopping trip I had planned began to fade from my reality. “Bud, I have to hold Nola because she forgot her shoes, you can both sit in the cart once we get inside, or you could push the cart if you want.” I was hoping to earn brownie points with the cart pushing activity. Normally my kids fight over who gets to push the cart but today Nola would surely be riding.
“No, I want mom to hold me too!” he snapped crossing his arms.
“Fine,” I answered. “Nola and I are just going to go then.” Were we really going to go, absolutely not, but I had tried this approach in the past with much success and was banking on it working again. But do you think it did? Not for a second. My stubborn child, who actually acquired the gene from his mother, stood his ground. I hated to have my four year old beat me in a face-off, but a crowded parking lot was no place to teach him a lesson.
So I returned to the car and saw that he was still knotted up with his arms folded tightly. I gently explained to him that we were shopping for groceries that would accompany us to our much anticipated cabin trip. His ears perked up and the wheels in his head began to turn. Miles would live on a lake if he could so I knew the word cabin would catch his attention.
Miles ultimately agreed to exit the car but there was a trade off, I had to hold him. So, I grabbed his left hand with my right then struggled to hold Nola with my left arm. She’s a skinny little girl but still weighs almost fifty pounds, two hands would have definitely served me better. When we finally reached the cart corral, I breathed a sigh of relief as I set her down. I placed Miles in the bed of the cart and Nola in the front seat. Her legs barely fit through those toddler holes but we eventually muscled them in.
Let the picking begin. Prior to this summer my kids got along splendidly. They received the mom look from time to time but we never had that many problems. But now, at ages four and six, they had learned to annoy each other.
“Mom! Miles keeps touching me!”
“No I don’t”
“Yes you do, Bud, I just saw you,” I replied.
“I’m just petting her arm.”
“Well, stop petting her arm.”
“Yeah, stop petting my arm.”
You can see where this is going…nowhere fast. Here were a few of my not so unique catch phrases:
“I’m going to pull both of you out of this cart if you keep this up.”
“We are going to leave without getting anything if you don’t stop.”
“Stop arguing, you are making a scene.”
This is the one that really got them: “You are not going to eat any of those little cookies on the way home.” Silence.
“But we want to eat those cookies.”
“Well, keep it up and you won’t.”
To make a long story short, my kids did not have cookies on the way home. Instead, they sat in silence. Miles was sad and Nola was bitter. In the past, a sharp look put my kids in their place so this punishment, their first real punishment, was going to be memorable.
They remained quiet on entering our house and soon their aunt, my sister, joined us. We were in the kitchen and I was still a bit crabby about my shopping experience therefore exhaled my angst in my sister’s direction. Nola, who was sitting in the other room yelled, “I can here you!”
Oops! Sorry, Bug. How about we make a deal, I will watch what I say and where I say it, and you stop fighting with your brother. I think that it’s a pretty good trade off, don’t you?
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