Can I tell you what drives me crazy? The floor slide. (It happens at about 1:30 in the video.) You know what I'm talking about:
"Broccoli! I hate broccoli!" [Child throws himself on the floor.]
"I don't waaaannnnaaa clean my room!" [Flop. Flop. Flop]
"I already read for 30 minutes!" [Slide, scoot, roll.]
I'm done. I can't handle it. It happened tonight. The Middle saw our dinner and life as we know it was over. Hear me:
I am not a short order cook. Ever. We have one thing on the menu and that's what you have. You don't like it, you don't have to eat. If you go to bed hungry, I'm so sorry. But I do not have time to fix five different meals every night. "You get what you get and you don't pitch a fit."
Except tonight. He pitched a fit. Rolling on the floor, kicking his feet. And the whining... Geez.
So I sent him to his room. I was loud about it, but I made my point.
And so did he. Stomping out, slamming doors, and screaming, "YOU'RE MEAN!"
Why does this bother me so much? It gets under my skin and causes me to engage in a huge power struggle. And I totally play along. I wish I was a pillar of self-control and could just handle it in a direct, loving manner. In a way that helps my child understand he is loved, but his behavior is unacceptable. I wish my words would cause heart change and it would never happen again.
But I don't and I really just want to throw myself on the floor.