New Parent Resloutions: I need help with my pre-schooler’s behaviour
Nobody ever said that parenting was easy. And everybody seems to be in agreement that the toddler years are particularly challenging. They call them the terrible twos and in my experience, they don’t call them that for nothing! But why does nobody mention the fact that the terrible twos isn’t a phenomenon that lasts for only one year? Why does the terrible twos morph into something else? Why do pre-schooler’s have just as many temper tantrums as their two year old counterparts? If you’ve experienced this then you probably have a lot to say to Minty, our guest poster for today:
It is with no exaggeration that I inform you, fellow parent, that I am writing this sitting in the living floor with my back to the door. This is in an attempt to prevent the crazed toddler on the other side of said door from entering and continuing to bash her father for turning the telly off. She is instead, bashing the door. Oh, and screaming . . . Oh my goodness the screaming.
I don’t think it’s really to do with the telly. She has a half hour or so of appropriately gentle kiddy TV to wind down (haha) before bath and bed. I think it’s to do with being completely out of routine from the Christmas hols and also to do with being a blummin feisty little thing. I am fast running out of ideas. A bit of time out, such as I am currently trying to implement will work to a degree, but it all starts up again at the next issue. . . And the next . . . And the next.
“Terrible twos” I hear you all cry. Well it started when she was one and a half and she’s now well over three. We had a spell when it calmed down a little, but then Christmas came charging towards us all jingle-bells blazing and we’re back to square one. It’s enough to make me convert from a when-it-suits-Christian (easter eggs and Christmas pressies, yes please!) to a festive-free religion.
Confrontation is the order of the day now as far as Gibby is concerned, and nothing I say is right.
Mummy – “look Grace I’ve got the paints out. Let’s do a picture.”
G – “I don’t want to do a picture.”
M – “Oh come on it’ll be fun. Look, I’ll help you get started.”
G – “I don’t want to get started, I don’t want to do a picture.”
M – “Ok, no problem. We’ll do something else.” (Starts putting paints away.)
G – “No, I think I want to do a picture.”
M -”Great! Come on then. . .” (Starts putting paints back out.)
G – NO, I think I don’t want to.”
m – “Right. Ok then, I’ll do a picture.” (sits to paint.)
G – “NO MUMMY DON’T DO A PICTURE DON’T DO A PICTURE!” (Frantically tries to grab brush from me.)
M – Grace don’t be so silly Mummy wants to paint.”
G – “NO YOU DON’T WANT TO PAINT!” (Hits mummy.)
M – “Grace we do not hit. Say sorry please.”
G – “No.”
And so it goes on. Warnings are given, time out is imposed, World War Three is erupted. Eventually I will get an apology and a cuddle.
. . . Hang on a minute. I finally hear silence from the other side of the door. Bear with me dear reader, whilst I test the water . . .
. . . 30 minutes later and she’s exhausted herself. To tired even for a bath, she’s now fast asleep having apologised to Daddy and me.