I had a hair appointment. The kid and I had a nice morning, we had breakfast, we watched some Caillou, we were hanging out together in my office playing games on the Sesame Street website. I told her that I needed her to get dressed. She said she didn’t want to. I told her that Grandma and I both had hair appointments and I needed her to get dressed so we could be ready to leave.
She said she needed a bum change.
Progress – we have to get out of her pajamas to change her bum, then once the bum change is complete, we put on real clothes. Solved.
Not so much.
Half an hour into the screaming tantrum I called to cancel my hair appointment and told my mother to go without me. Half an hour after that she finally calmed down.
A full hour of her yelling at me, screaming, slamming doors, pushing me and hitting me, refusing to listen and running around the top floor of our house with tears streaming down her face.
I’m supposed to go to another appointment this afternoon. Can you guess how much I want to have to take her?
This, in my opinion, is the worst thing about this age. There’s so much good – she’s learning and connecting with other kids, she’s doing a lot of things on her own – but there’s the bad that comes with the discovery that she’s her own person. And even if we get out of the house without a fight, she could change everything any minute. The unpredictability of it all is enough to make you housebound. (I’m not even going to think about how parents with more than one kid do it).