Goo makes me crazy. This is no surprise given that I’ve nicknamed her Todzilla. I mean the whole food sensitivity-raging ball of uncontrollable anger is one thing. But she is so. flipping. argumentative. About everything. All the time. What clothes to wear, what food to eat, what spoon to use to eat that food, not picking up toys, what toys to pick up first when she finally does, which chair to sit in, which elastic to use. You get the idea.
And I understand the part about being strong-willed, being
out of your mind insane three years old, and wanting to assert herself. So yes, I expect the arguments when I say, “No.”
But why for-the-love-of-God-and-all-that-is-good-and-holy do you argue with me when I say, “Yes?”
Goo: Mommy, I have some milk, please?
Me: Sure, Goo. You can have milk.
Goo (angry eyes): Mommy! I said I. have. milk. PLEASE!
Me: Yes, Goo. You can have milk. I will go get you milk, okay?
Goo: Mommy! No! I say, I want milk! I want milk, Mommy!
Me: What did I say, Goo?
Goo: You say, “Yes!”
Me: Ok then, why are you arguing with me?
Goo: Because I need to!
What the what? What the heck is wrong with you? I SAID YES. Y-E-S. That’s an affirmative answer. It means that your request has been granted and your wish will be fulfilled. But I swear I will lose my ever-loving mind if I have to fight with you one. more. time. about agreeing with you.
You know what, Goo? How ’bout this: I say yes. You argue with me. My answer changes. To no. No, you cannot have milk. No, you cannot have the pink dress. No, you cannot have bubbles in the bath. No, you cannot eat. Anything. Ever again.
And what’s up with, “Because I need to?” Really? Really? Well I need to take a vacation. I need to get a makeover. I need
to start drinking at 10 AM. But I don’t. Because those things aren’t options for me. But you? You have options, Goo. Options that are often perfectly acceptable and readily available. Options that will keep YOU quiet and ME happy if you will just. stop. fighting me. So no, you do not need to fight with me. Because believe you me, I will win. I will win. every. single. time. And then someday, you’ll be a teenager, and you’ll wonder I’m saying, “No,” to the movies, the prom, borrowing my car, getting a cell phone. You’ll wonder why simple requests are always denied. And I will tell you:
When you were younger, you argued with me. All the time. No matter what I did. When I was mean. When I was nice. When I obliged. When I denied. And you know what I realized? Not giving you things? SO MUCH CHEAPER than giving you things. And I figured, hey, you fight with me either way, might as well save some money. So there you go, Goo. From now on, just wake up and assume my answer is, “No.”
Someone tell me this is a phase. Tell me it gets better. Tell me that as she gets older and has a greater understanding of human emotion and communication, the fighting will subside. At least over the things I’m agreeing to.
And now, if you’ll excuse me. It’s almost 10 AM. Time for my first drink.