So, I, like every mother, wants what is best for their children. They want the best clothes, best toys, best vacations. We want the best nutrition, the best education, the best personal experiences. Yet, how can we provide this for our children if we, as grown adults, can stoup to arguing with a nine month old?
Today, my nine month old foster daughter decided that she was not happy sitting in her play pen playing with her mountain of toys. She was not happy with free reign to crawl to all the cool places in the living room. She didn't want to watch Little Bear and certainly was not interested in your rocking horse. She didn't want to walk around the ottoman, play with her foster brother or even drink her milk. She wanted my bowl of cereal.
Now, as a good mother, I know that babies without teeth should not partake in things like Trix. They are round, rough, hard and she can choke. Not to mention that they are not good for anyone, especially her, soaking in the yummy goodness that is flavored milk. She simply can not have them. So I chose to ignore her pouty eyes and whimpers every time I picked up the spoon. I looked past those big brown eyes, her drool encrusted fingers hanging casually from her toothless mouth and continue to endure the cereal for her own good. As the octaves of her fit raised and the milk cup was tossed at me in a feeble attempt to gain my attention, I looked down at her and simply stated, "No."
What was I thinking? Telling a nine month old she couldn't have something? Was I a cruel mother who enjoyed watching the baby wither about, hurt by my mean word? No, I just wanted to finish my cereal and go about my day. Louder and louder she got, giving me the what for, telling me what and who I was. I looked at her again, with a bit more bass and said, "NO."
She stopped, looked up at me, startled for a sheer second, before she got a concentrated look on her face, then she closed her mouth. I figured I had been victorious. Look at me, I taught her how to understand the word "no" and she was compliant. I was the mother of the year! I had won, dancing around in my mind, I sat back again, consuming the last of my cereal, when I heard a small sound. I stopped chewing and looked at the baby. She was looking at me intently. "No.", she said. I was astounded. I couldn't have just heard that. There's no way she just said that to me. Before it dawned on me, she said it again. "No."
I was floored. How dare she argue with me? Wasn't I the adult? Wasn't I the one who made all of the decisions. I was in charge. Again, she peered up at me and said, "No."
I sat straight up and said, "Don't you argue with me. I said no."
She looked at me. Blinking, she said, "No."
Surely my ears had deceived me. Over and over again, she said "No." Louder and louder, with more conviction, breaking me down, watching my power crumble around me. I was helpless. She was taking charge and I was losing my position within the hierarchy of the family to her. My son watched, interested in the way the baby consumed the position, taking it over for all the children in the house. I knew that I had to do something before I was completely overthrown.
So, I turned her chair around and put on Yo, Gabba, Gabba.
It was my only defense. Distracted, she put her movement of mutiny on hold for another day. I may have slyly won this battle, but I feel that it is just a matter of time before I will have to rebuild my armies and visit this battlefield again.
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