Hey, friends! That time again—my essay is up on the Kindred Mom site. You can go there to read the whole thing or read on for a bit of it.
She was standing in her partly-open doorway, leaning slightly forward at the waist, fists balled, arms locked and sticking out a bit behind her, yelling.
“You never want to do anything fun! Only boring stuff! I HATE YOU!!! YOU’RE THE WORST!!! MAYBE IF YOU COULD BE GOOD AT ANYTHING FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, THIS WOULD BE EASIER! ”
Her mouth was open wider than I thought possible and spittle was flying forth as she raged at top volume.
It was so cartoonish I actually laughed out loud. (I’ll let you imagine how that might have gone over.) This was only last Tuesday, but I honestly don’t remember what I did about it. I’m sure I did something.
The whole scene is swallowed in the hilarity of her Shrek-like anger. Is this good parenting? I have no idea. If someone had described this situation to me just a few years ago, I would have had two thoughts: first, I think I’d die if my child said something so hurtful to me, and second, that’s SO disrespectful! My child will NEVER do that. Or if she does, she won’t do it twice.
News flash, Younger Robin: you won’t die and yes, she will do it twice or really a lot more. Actually, both my big girls have told me they hate me and I’m “the worst,” and the smaller two picked up on it and started mimicking, so I’ve now been “hated” by a three-year-old. And of course I address disrespectful and hurtful comments, but addressing it any one of dozens of ways won’t necessarily make it stop…
grace enough 