When a Badger Calls You Out
Last night as I went up to bed I discovered that Badger had decided it was a good idea to make a Matchbox car parking lot out of the landing at the top of the stairs. Obviously, this is not a good thing for many reasons, most of them related to not killing us by skating down the stairs on a tiny car.
Since Badger was still peering at me from around her door, I asked her to come pick them up because it wasn't safe for us or her beloved cars. I continued on into the bathroom to do my thing, and listened for the sound of Matchbox cars being tossed into the car tuppy. Then, this…
Crash, crash, crash
He came into the bathroom chased by the sound of crashing Matchbox cars and repeated reassurances from the hall, [crash] “See, NOT GLASS, didn't break!”
This is not the first debate he has lost with wee Badger. She’s just three and she’s schooling him. I’m torn between defending the sanctity of parental authority and amusement that Dad-e-Lion can’t seem to win with her.
At two, Badger had the occasional meltdown and ongoing frustration about limits – either her own capabilities or those we imposed. But now, it’s ALL a debate, discussion or war between her and her beloved daddy. She does love him, she just also thinks he’s very, very wrong about a whole lot of things, and does not hesitate to tell him so.
Badger’s opinionated approach to Mr. Puff’s parenting has created a crisis of conscience for me. I want to help him because he’s so frustrated, and I don't want Badger turning into a defiant little jerk. At the same time, I sort of get her frustration with his inconsistent approach and some of the things he picks to care about.
So, I try to gently nudge him (or shove, sometimes there's shoving) when I see he’s on a path that ends in a mess of thorns. But sometimes I let him run because it’s just freaking funny, and he’s moving so fast I couldn't catch him in time anyway. I’m honestly not sure if this will eventually result in Badger transforming into a dictatorial brat. So far, she’s still okay with me (when you consider “okay” to be the normal level of three-year-old sass and shenanigans) and reserves her declarations of war for her dad.
My parenting approach with these volatile little people is based on patience, perspective and choosing very, very carefully which hills I’m willing to die on because once I pick that hill – where I enforce the rule or lay down the law and never, ever, ever budge – I have to stick to my guns and die on that hill. This approach has worked so far because the kids know that I never relent, and that I’m reasonable about when I choose to dig in.
Dad-e-Lion is still catching up.
He threw his hands in the air and shook his head.
After I got done snickering, I did talk to Badger about how she talked to her dad. She insisted that he also needed to apologize for being disrespectful to her (keep in mind, this little pill is three – yes, we know we’re in big trouble with this one). I ended up brokering a mutual cease-fire, and I’m working on getting both of them to be respectful to each other. Interestingly, out of the three kids - ages 10, 7 and 3 - it is the three-year-old who gives him the most feedback.
This transition is hard – especially the part where I don’t laugh out loud at her tiny, tyrannical insubordination and his complete bewilderment at dealing with her defiance. One of these days, I’m going to pop something holding it back, but neither one of them needs the encouragement.
Since Badger was still peering at me from around her door, I asked her to come pick them up because it wasn't safe for us or her beloved cars. I continued on into the bathroom to do my thing, and listened for the sound of Matchbox cars being tossed into the car tuppy. Then, this…
Crash, crash, crash
“Honey, you shouldn't throw your cars like that, you’re going to break them,” remarked Dad-e-Lion.
“They’re NOT glass daddy. They’re cars. They’re not going to break.”
“But you should treat them gently. They’re your cars. You’re going to hurt them throwing them like that.”
“They’re NOT glass. It’s fine!”
“But…”
“I told you, it’s fine. I’m putting them away and they’re NOT glass. They’re not gonna break!”
He came into the bathroom chased by the sound of crashing Matchbox cars and repeated reassurances from the hall, [crash] “See, NOT GLASS, didn't break!”
This is not the first debate he has lost with wee Badger. She’s just three and she’s schooling him. I’m torn between defending the sanctity of parental authority and amusement that Dad-e-Lion can’t seem to win with her.
Why Yes, I am Critiquing Your Parenting
Because of a large change in his job almost a year ago, Dad-e-Lion is getting to participate in parenting Badger more than he ever did with Quokka or Athena. It’s been a huge learning curve for him, frustrating for them, and inappropriately amusing for me. Also, in spite of our cultural meme about the Terrible Twos, after three tours of duty, I’m a firm believer that the Tyrannical Threes and F-U Fours are a lot more challenging. Dad-e-Lion now agrees. |
| Hanging with Dad and using him as an easy chair |
Badger’s opinionated approach to Mr. Puff’s parenting has created a crisis of conscience for me. I want to help him because he’s so frustrated, and I don't want Badger turning into a defiant little jerk. At the same time, I sort of get her frustration with his inconsistent approach and some of the things he picks to care about.
So, I try to gently nudge him (or shove, sometimes there's shoving) when I see he’s on a path that ends in a mess of thorns. But sometimes I let him run because it’s just freaking funny, and he’s moving so fast I couldn't catch him in time anyway. I’m honestly not sure if this will eventually result in Badger transforming into a dictatorial brat. So far, she’s still okay with me (when you consider “okay” to be the normal level of three-year-old sass and shenanigans) and reserves her declarations of war for her dad.
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| She looks so sweet - don't be fooled |
Dad-e-Lion is still catching up.
And So It Goes
As I came downstairs on Saturday morning, he was admonishing Badger for something she’d done wrong.“You can’t do that! It’s naughty and bad!” With his voice all stern and deep.
To which Badger replied, “NO, you cannot talk to me that way. This is not okay! I’m done here and I’m going.”
As she marched out of the kitchen he yelled, “Hey, get back here! I’m not done talking to you! You need to clean this up!”
“NO, I’m done! I’m going now!” And away she went.
I pointed out, “Dude, you just got schooled by your three year old. What are you going to do about that?”
He threw his hands in the air and shook his head.
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| The Badger in her natural state |
After I got done snickering, I did talk to Badger about how she talked to her dad. She insisted that he also needed to apologize for being disrespectful to her (keep in mind, this little pill is three – yes, we know we’re in big trouble with this one). I ended up brokering a mutual cease-fire, and I’m working on getting both of them to be respectful to each other. Interestingly, out of the three kids - ages 10, 7 and 3 - it is the three-year-old who gives him the most feedback.
This transition is hard – especially the part where I don’t laugh out loud at her tiny, tyrannical insubordination and his complete bewilderment at dealing with her defiance. One of these days, I’m going to pop something holding it back, but neither one of them needs the encouragement.
