One of the most exhausting things, mentally at least, that I have found whilst caring for my daughter is trying to think like her. This is often a scary prospect as it appears a lot of attention is taken up with Paw Patrol and debating the gender of various inanimate objects with said objects. It is, however, sometimes the only way to find out why she has gone from a happy bubbly child to a screaming demon. Lessons in perspective are important, and also analysis of consequences – not for the child, but for us as parents. It may only be a stuffed dog to me, but to her it’s a lifeline, security, and to be without it will cause huge anxiety. So no, she isn’t going to sleep, leave the house, eat dinner or do anything else until she has it in her hands.
This is why we have 5 of the sodding things. 3 in active rotation, and, since we discovered that they were to be discontinued, 2 in storage. This means that there is always one available, regardless of whether it needs a wash, it’s been left at school, or she’s put it in a ‘safe place’ and promptly forgotten where that is (why is it always under the couch!?)
I have also noticed that articulating and validating her emotions, independently of what I’m feeling, helps her process what is going on. I might be internally screaming that, actually, she’s having a meltdown over the playdoh being the wrong shade of red after she added the white to it. But using logic to point that out is not going to help anything in that moment.
I have been chastised for using the wrong spoon in the wrong porridge bowl. Yes, she has more than one bowl for porridge, deal with it – I have to. The blue spoon is for the white bowl, the silver spoon for the blue bowl, and no, it can’t be any other spoon; and yes, they have to be that way round. You have to stir clockwise and the blue has to be on the left of the white. Got it?
Good, because I haven’t, and regularly get it wrong. (Don’t even ask about transferring porridge from one bowl to the other!) I could argue it makes no difference, and seriously, the orange spoon and blue spoon are the same size and shape.. but at some point you have to identify the important point of the little drama: I want her to eat. How that is achieved, I honestly don’t care. So we do this song and dance at least three times a day because porridge is all she currently wants to eat. But hey, at least she eats!
I’m exhausted from it. I need a drink. That’s a shot and a half of chilled Kraken rum, in a tall glass that has a squeeze of fresh lime juice, one ice cube and topped with 150ml of full sugar, coca-cola (not Pepsi or store brand).
I don’t have any idea where she gets her pickiness from.
Raising the Modern Fae 