Life Lessons . . . .

I probably write about my Siggy Girl too much, but she is still in that fun age where they say such funny things. But I have to tell a story of Signe's defiant side. It never used to show much, but it has been coming out more often lately and I can even find humor in her naughtiness--well, at least in her reaction afterwards. Let me start at the beginning.

Hannah had a friend over and his little brother called and wanted to come over. So I sent the two around the corner to walk him over. Several minutes later, Sig comes down and realizes they have gone. Of course she wants to go too, but they are probably there already so I tell her to wait, because they will be right back.

Signe was having none of that and ran out the front door. I head out after her, in my socks. And Charly escapes in the process. I grab him--he can't be trusted outside, he tends to run around like a crazy person and is likely to get himself killed. All the while I am negotiating with Signe with phrases like, "You need to stay here or you will lose your DS for a day." And, "You are making a naughty choice and making mommy angry." And, of course, "If you don't come back you will have to sit on the time out chair, or worse yet lay on you bed for half an hour." All to no avail. She is not listening to reason--by this time I have followed her halfway to the corner, taking off my socks en route, and still carrying Charly.

I pick up my pace to catch up with her and she bolts. My main thought as I chase my daughter down the street is, "I wonder what the neighbors are thinking?" Because, I admit, it was probably entertaining to watch. So, I finally catch up with her and pick her up kicking and screaming and head home. And let me tell you, trying to carry a dog in one arm and a squirming child in the other is not easy.

Not to mention, what with the screaming and fighting, it is highly likely any onlookers would assume I was kidnapping this child, though any fast get away would surely be hindered by the bare feet and armful of dog.

Halfway back home she stops struggling and promises to walk on her own if I would put her down because my hold is hurting her ribs--I am sure it has nothing to do with the flailing.
So she walks--grumpily--home. And apart from a moment of reconsidering in the driveway where she almost bolts, I manage to get her inside.

Once there, I sit her on the time out chair and set the timer for five minutes while I talk to her about choices and the consequences of said choices. As a parent I believe children need to understand that punishment is not about mean parents, it is about making poor choices. And same goes for rewards and good choices. So then I leave her to think about her choice while sitting on the time out chair. This may seem like a mild punishment, but believe me, a few minutes of confinement on that chair in the corner of the living room is an eternity in her four year old mind.

From the kitchen I can hear her quietly crying when suddenly she breaks out with, "I shouldn't have made that choice! Why did I make that choice?"

Needless to say when the timer buzzed she assured me that next time she would listen when I told her not to do something. And I am sure she meant it. . . until next time.