If someone would've told me 5 years ago that my child's biggest melt-down to date would've involved taking an oven mitt to the baby sitters, I would've laughed hysterically. But this is no laughing matter.
Last week, I could not convince Ella to leave the house without it. It's a little purple floral oven mitt made by Grandma Kathy for her play kitchen. I always let her take one thing to the sitters, and that's because it is usually Lambey (a.k.a. MiMi). But an oven mitt? It just seemed a little unnecessary. I was sure it would be lost. Or they would all want to wear it. Or it would get left there or ruined or fed to the dog or dumped in the toilet.
I tried everything... Being cool and calm. Being sneaky. Being forceful. Being desperate. Everything I did just lead to more frustration.
I could literally hear my mom telling me "Pick your battles, Heth!" in my head.
I took a deep breath and out the door we went. Oven mitt in hand.
Ella: 1. Mommy: 0.
No comments:
Post a Comment