A battle of wills

Whoever coined the term "terrible two's" was off by about a year. As a two year old, Annalee was angelic: helpful, obedient, sweet, cheery. But as soon as she hit that three year mark her warranty expired and suddenly she became rebellious, whiney, and stubborn as . . . her father. She certainly didn't get it from me!

Exhibit A:
One day--a Tuesday--she dumped out all the Apples to Apples cards while I was trying to catch up on sleep. I was so tired of cleaning up messes, so I told her that she made the mess so she would have to clean it up. That kind of logic makes sense to her and it usually works. But I think she was a little intimidated by the sheer number of cards (432, by the way). I knew this was within her abilities. There are only two colors of cards--green and red--so they are simple to sort and stack into their trays. At different times Nathan, Steven, and I took pity on her and tried to help her out by sitting down with her to cheer her on or by explaining how to do it. We even swept the cards into several large piles and suggested she clean up just one to start with. Several times Annalee made real progress, but then she would get annoyed and dump them all out again. Day after day the cards stayed in the middle of my living room. I itched to pick them up myself because I hated looking at the mess but I resisted, knowing that I had to make Annalee obey for her own sake.

That first day she went to bed without dinner. When they still didn't get picked up on Wednesday I decided I had to feed her but I took away desserts. She also got grounded from the tv and computer. She lost her pre-nap and pre-bedtime games. (We usually play a quick game like Red Light, Green Light before she goes to bed.) When Papa came over for lunch Annalee helped me set up a blanket for a picnic (which she'd been begging to have) and then she had to stay inside and eat while we had a picnic without her. Then Papa and I had popsicles. I kept telling her, "Just put your cards away and you can join us!" but she wouldn't. On Thursday I grounded her from preschool. That one was really hard on me because we had paid for the preschool and it was only a month long. When my friend came to pick her up for carpool Annalee had to tell her she couldn't go. Friday was my turn to drive. I drove all the kids to the school and took them inside to the classroom, then turned right around with Annalee and took her home. I thought for SURE that would work because she loved preschool so much. But she still refused to pick up the cards.

Saturday, Uncle Steve and I put together her new swing set. (I'd bought it before the rebellion.) This was my last card (ha ha) to play. If this didn't work I didn't know what I was going to do next. Annalee danced around the yard while we put the swing set together. When it was done, I said, "Annalee, would you like to go play on your new swing set?" "Yeah!" she cheered. Then I got a sad look on my face. "Oh, what a bummer! You haven't put away the cards yet. Go put them away and then you can play." She didn't cry or anything, she just lost interest and went inside. I have no idea what she did, since she was grounded from everything. Her existence had become very, very boring and still she wouldn't give in!

I was out of ideas, but a tiny voice inside my head screamed that if I gave up my child would end up in the electric chair. (Name that movie!)

On Sunday either Vander or I was sick, so we all stayed home. We told Annalee she wasn't going to nursery because she was grounded. (Evil parents!)

The next day was Monday. I had had it. Annalee missed preschool again and got grounded to her room. As far as I was concerned, she could stay in there until she either picked up her cards or graduated high school. The latter was starting to look like a real possibility. Every time she asked if she could come out I said, "Sure! Just go pick up your cards!" There was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. She cried, threw tantrums, and ran out of her room without permission and without picking up the cards. It finally came down to a predictable rhythm: she would run out of her room and stand in the hall crying, I would calmly swat her on the bum and drag her back, telling her she could come out when she was ready to pick up her cards. I don't know how long that went on, but when she was so upset she could hardly talk I heard, "Mo-hom! I-him r-r-read-dy to pi-i-ick uh-uh-up my ca-ards!"

It was astounding how quickly she picked them up then. She got to play on her swing set for the first time that day. I was so glad I'd stuck to my guns. I knew she could do it!

And now I know I can, too.