I was telling Tony that Maiya and I were in an argument last night in the car coming home from work/childcare. He said something like, "You should blog about this, instead of all the cutesy stuff."
When I picked her up from childcare, she was all happy as usual. As we walked out of the center, she said sweetly, "Mommy, your back is hurt?" "Thank you for asking. It is feeling a little better right now." We went into the office as usual so she could visit her friends (my coworkers) and have a snack, which is one of her favorite parts of the day. She often doesn't want to say goodbye.
So later, we're getting in the car and she is stalling as usual. Sometimes it takes us several long minutes just for her to stop futzing around and get into the car, and then more dilly-dallying to actually get her into the seat. Finally she gets in the car and is purposely sitting on the seatbelt so that I can't buckle it. I ask her to move back so I can strap her in. She digs in, not letting me access the seat belt. I am getting exasperated and say, "Maiya, move back please. Now." My gentle parenting philosophy flies out the window at this point. She doesn't, so I have to get my body inside the car to lift her butt so that I can get her in, which is killing my back. When my head is in the car, she starts hitting me in the head with "Lamby" a little stuffed animal. I get mad and grab Lamby from her and violently throw him in the front seat.
MG: I want Lamby!
JK: Not right now.
MG: I want my Lamby! Gimme Lamby! (She's now strapped in by force)
JK: No, MG, now right now. You were hitting Mommy with Lamby and that wasn't nice.
So for the next 10-15 minutes, she is demanding Lamby. I am asking her to either apologize for hitting mommy, or ask nicely, instead of demanding him in a mean way. "You are not getting him back when you ask me nasty like that." Two choices. She keeps demanding in a nasty voice. Finally as we're moving from the 110 freeway to the 10 heading West she says,
"Mommy, no talk to me. Stop talking me!"
Fine with me! At this point in the retelling of the story Tony laughs and says "Isn't this not supposed to happen for a few more years? At least until the pre-teen years? Anyways, finally, somewhere around Crenshaw or La Brea we both cooled off, and she did stop acting horribly and finally asked nicely for Lamby, so I gave it back to her, explaining that she asked nicely. She did say that something in her tooth was bothering her mouth, actually she said, "My sparkling teeth is not so good." And that she was upset that she didn't want to go home, she wanted to go see Uncle Bill. But I explained that daddy was at home, so we were going to go home, and then pick up daddy and go to Costco.
By the time we get home, she is in a good mood. Just another night. Just wait until I blog about some of our getting dressed battles. Or the swearing, which is new. At least we are over the teeth brushing battles and the war against pants, shoes and jackets. For now. Lately I hear that Threes are worse than Terrible Twos. Can't wait!