Miss Cherry Red

Motherhood. Love. Life. And everything in between

Picture the scene.  I would suggest closing your eyes but it’d make reading pretty hard!

I’ve just finished work.  I’m tired.  I’ve gone to my mums to collect Keira.  Keira is in the kind of mood that wants to ‘test’ me:

Me: Come on then flower, shoes and coat on please.  Give nanny a kiss and tell her you’ll see her tomorrow

The Girl: No

Me: Shoes and coat on.  Please.

The Girl: No.

Me: I wont ask you again.  Shoes and coat on.  Now.

I’m scowling at this point in an effort to convey how unwilling I am to enter into a row with a three year old.

The Girl: I don’t want to.

Me: I am not interested in what you want Keira, I have asked you to do something.  Do it now or I will do it for you.

The Girl: Go on then.

God damned little madam.

I pick up her and she goes limp.  I put her on the floor until she’s normal again.  The Girl one.  Mummy nil.

I pick her up again.  This time she goes rigid.  I can’t bend her legs to put her shoes on for fear that I break a leg.  The Girl two.  Mummy nil.

I’m thinking to myself at this point that I’ve had a major shitty day, I’ve come home to more attitude.  From a bloody three year old.  Three going on fifteen I think.

I’ve lost the battle but the war isn’t over yet.  I didn’t navigate my way through life to reach 31 without learning a trick or two….  Shame none of them are useful right now though.  Bugger it.

Me: If your shoes and coat are not on in the next two minutes I will be going home without you.

The Girl: Will you come back in the morning?

That’s it.  Game over.  Patience has gone entirely so I pick up, kicking and screaming and put her on my knee where I’ve managed to get her legs into some sort of position that will let me put her shoes on without breaking her legs.

Mummy one.  The Girl two.

Next I clamp her in between my legs and put her coat on.  I can hear the victory march tune already!

Mummy two.  The Girl two.

I let her go and tell her to give nanny and grandad a kiss bye bye and tell them we’ll see them tomorrow.

A pretty purple shoe with flowers hits me in the chest.

Time for the naughty step.

Now, according to SuperNanny, children should spend one minute for every year they’ve been here on the naughty step making The Girl’s total time 3.5 minutes.  I resist the urge to put her there for 15.

She gets off the step and makes a dash upstairs.

Me:  I did not tell you that you could move

The Girl: Why?

Me: Because I said so, I do not want to have to come out there to you

The Girl: Are you going to count to five…..

It’s about now I think ‘No.  Mummy may need ten’

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