This week, my little one turned two. That morning, as if heralding in his new year, he refused to let me shower him. Hands off, Mama, I can do it myself. He looked so short and tiny and adorable splashing water on his face and vigorously rubbing soap on his chest. Hmmm… where did the years go… ok now I feel like bawling my eyes out. Focus, Mama!
“Outsida?? Outsida?? Outsida!!”
It was sunny and hot the whole day, after raining the previous day. Now it was early evening and he insisted on going out of the yard into the neighborhood for a walk. “Mama, outsida!!”
Ok, ok; his shrill shouts were making my ears ring.
He eagerly went for his old pram to push while I gathered my purse and things. I had the gate open for him in the meantime. That. was. a. HUGE. mistake.
When I waddled out, I came to meet this…
“Come out, right now!”
Zoom! He ran past me with the pram. I made a wild swipe for him. Missed. Zoom! past me again, races straight into the puddle again. The muddy water splish-splashes around and land on his shorts. His bottom half glimmers like he’s some sort of mud merman.
I am the mistress of my emotions. I am the mistress of my emotions. I’m not going to get angry with him today. It’s his birthday. And this is proactivity month. You can choose your response, no matter how aggravating the situation. I am the mistress of my emotions. Breathe…ok good, another deep breath… breathe… There, that’s it. Let him enjoy it, you used to do it too. Besides, he’s already wet, it’s too late… Breeeeaaathe….
He rans and splashes and races to his fill, grinning at passers-by and neighbors peering out at him from behind their fences.
Later, I declare enough and we head for inside.
“Come Alexko, shower.”
“Come on, choco”
“No!!” and bolts past me into the master bedroom, heading straight for the bed.
I make a wild dash for him, the sparks flying out of my eyes. Mistress of my emotions I am not.
But I’m getting there…I’m getting there.