Last week had a relatively rotten start around these parts.
Tiny was missing his daddy who had to go back to work after a fun three weeks, and I was missing him too. I was tired, having been up a few times with the baby in the night, so when Tiny had been put into time out for the umpteenth time, I lost the plot a little.
He’d just eaten the wax on a big candle, and then he pulled Pickle’s birth certificate out of its tube holder, scrunching it up, and eating some of it.
I swore at him, which I’m mightily ashamed of, and childishly ignored him while he bawled in the hallway. I was so angry that he’d ruined something of his brother’s, and it took a while for me to calm down sufficiently to remember that we have another copy of the certificate, and to be able to talk to him about what he’d done.
When Tall got home, Tiny was in time out again, and his favourite race car had been confiscated. By then, I was able to see the funny side of the day (just!), but it was also starting to get some cogs whirring in my brain.
When Tuesday was another bad day, I decided to put my plan into action, and so Wednesday became a “Yes” day.
When Tiny asked for chocolate (Nutino) toast for morning tea, I said yes. When he asked me if I wanted to play with his race cars with him, I said yes. When he asked if he could watch a cartoon, I said yes. When he asked me to have running races (which he always wins, regardless) and to read him a story and to go for a “ride” in his (imaginary) fire engine, I said yes, yes, YES.
I drew the line at more chocolate toast at lunchtime, and when he asked if he could throw a golf ball inside, but for most of the day, when it was appropriate, those oft-spoken sentences – “Not at the moment, I’m busy,” and “In a minute” – weren’t uttered.
When Tall got home, the mood in the house was positive. The laundry was unwashed and the dishes hadn’t been washed or cleared, but we were all happy.
I’m thinking that a “Yes” day might become a weekly thing around these parts!