Stubborn.
Uh-huh, that's right. You KNOW who I'm talking about.
Little Meems is in trouble for taking her brother's ball away from him to "show you how to make a hook shot." Translation: "to hear you squeal like a pig."
It's what she does best some days. This week being one of them.
I told her to give the ball back, explaining that you can't just take the ball away from someone.
Bounce. Bounce.
"Little Meems, give the ball back to your brother."
Bounce. Bounce.
"Give. the Ball. BACK. to. your BROther."
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
"NOOOOWWWWW!"
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce-bounce-bounce-bounce-bounce. "I just want to do this ONE thing."
"Enough. You have until three...ONE."
Her running around faking her pretend opponent out.
"TWO."
Bounce. "Watch me I can dribble."
"THREE."
"OK, let me just make this shot."
The ball is retrieved and returned to her brother. True to her plan, her brother has been squealing like a pig. I can't take it anymore. She is informed that she will be in time out when she gets inside (which happens only after the threat of something more severe). She huffs and puffs her way inside the door, slamming it and slamming it again, and parks herself on the bottom stair.
After 8 minutes, I calmly explain to her why she's there (because she has no idea!) and that she owes both me and her brother apologies, for disobeying and for stealing his ball.
"Nope."
And so I informed her that when she's ready to apologize, she can get up. I'm no dummy, that's the REAL punishment.
That was 40 minutes ago. She just informed me she's still not ready. Completely umprompted. It's her way of saying "The war is on."
Oh, it's on, alright.
It's always a battle of wills with her. She never wins, but she never fails to try.
I guess I should admire her tenacity, her stick-to-it-iveness. It will serve her well one day.
If she ever gets out of time out.
Little Meems is in trouble for taking her brother's ball away from him to "show you how to make a hook shot." Translation: "to hear you squeal like a pig."
It's what she does best some days. This week being one of them.
I told her to give the ball back, explaining that you can't just take the ball away from someone.
Bounce. Bounce.
"Little Meems, give the ball back to your brother."
Bounce. Bounce.
"Give. the Ball. BACK. to. your BROther."
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.
"NOOOOWWWWW!"
Bounce. Bounce. Bounce-bounce-bounce-bounce-bounce. "I just want to do this ONE thing."
"Enough. You have until three...ONE."
Her running around faking her pretend opponent out.
"TWO."
Bounce. "Watch me I can dribble."
"THREE."
"OK, let me just make this shot."
The ball is retrieved and returned to her brother. True to her plan, her brother has been squealing like a pig. I can't take it anymore. She is informed that she will be in time out when she gets inside (which happens only after the threat of something more severe). She huffs and puffs her way inside the door, slamming it and slamming it again, and parks herself on the bottom stair.
After 8 minutes, I calmly explain to her why she's there (because she has no idea!) and that she owes both me and her brother apologies, for disobeying and for stealing his ball.
"Nope."
And so I informed her that when she's ready to apologize, she can get up. I'm no dummy, that's the REAL punishment.
That was 40 minutes ago. She just informed me she's still not ready. Completely umprompted. It's her way of saying "The war is on."
Oh, it's on, alright.
It's always a battle of wills with her. She never wins, but she never fails to try.
I guess I should admire her tenacity, her stick-to-it-iveness. It will serve her well one day.
If she ever gets out of time out.
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