A friend mentioned last week her sadness about disciplining her two-year-old granddaughter Jessica. Been there myself. You're beating yourself up for disciplining the
tot and s/he's off in a corner figuring out another way to get to what s/he's been told numerous times in just as many ways s/he's not
to touch.
Brandon's a button pusher. He learned the
phrasing and practice at home. Dawn's said it many times, initially of
Matt who knows what will irritate her and persists until she loses
patience. Now Matt and Brandon push one another's buttons, and
Brandon's learned the lesson well.
Brandon may begin by asking. Refused, he
moves to pleading, inserting several 'pleases' with his request. He
even negotiates when he suspects a remaining chink in the adult's
naysaying. Somewhere along the line, when he realizes he's getting to
my last nerve, Brandon grins (damn him!) and affirms, "I'm just pushing
your buttons, Grandma."
If he's really serious about having/getting/doing something he's been denied, he will be dogged, going so far as to challenge
authority. Last week I stooped to corporal punishment. He
persisted in jumping with his feet and landing on his bottom in my
easy chair even after repeated requests that he sit and not use
it as a trampoline. I convinced him of my resolution when I fulfilled
the threat to smack his bare bottom (once I caught him).
When released and out of arm's reach, he
turned and said,
"That didn't hurt," to which I replied, "But it could have." Either
the logic of what I said made sense or, more likely, he lost interest in
the challenge. I don't care why, at least he didn't jump on the
furniture again.
I'm sure the veterans of the Grandparents' Club are smirking at the
problems yet to be faced. I know: The problems won't end, they'll just change.
I'm going to go take a nap. Just thinking of what's ahead has worn me out.
