Parenting a four year old continues to offer challenging opportunities. Why, just last night, a certain young man was relieved of not one, but several of his most beloved soft friends. Yes, Dragon, Cody the coyote, and Squawker were all sent on holiday. It was a tearful departure, but before the tears had even stopped, yet another grievance was discovered. This one, of far greater proportion than those that prompted the swift away of beloved furry friends. No, this transgression warranted much more. No movie privileges for a month two weeks. We simply do not write on the television screen with ball point pens. The thing is, where were the parents when this took place? Clearly we are not as vigilant as we ought to be. A month is an eternity to a four year old, so we reduced the sentence to two weeks. Still, an eternity. We will probably reduce it further, to one week. And pay more attention.
Amidst the tears, when the first sentence was being delivered, he responded with a terrific scream, the likes of which could prompt passersby to consider calling the authorities. No, we didn’t touch him. We just told him that he couldn’t have his stuffies to sleep with (and implied that they’d be gone longer than one night, horrible, bad mother). During the tears and the sobs and the wails and the pleas, the second transgression was discovered, and I had to tell him he’s in big BIG trouble now.
“Am I going to jail?”
I don’t even know where he came up with that. We do watch cop and crime shows (Life, Life on Mars, CSI…) and I guess he knows that when people are bad, they sometimes go to jail. Even so…
He’s a heartbreaker, that one. I gave his friends back as soon as he woke up. He hugged them so tight, and welcomed them all like long lost friends. Which is what they were, in his four year old mind.
My beautiful, strong-willed boy. What am I going to do with him? How will I be able to stay a step ahead and give him the boundaries and the lessons and the love and the guidance that he needs, in order to become a fine and decent adult? In reality, I am so much less of a mother than I ever dreamed or imagined I’d be.
Without the rosy glasses, it’s a completely different ballgame.
