In the mornings and during naptimes, Evan used to never touch his bedroom doorknob until we appeared first. That ended this week.
Part of me knows it couldn't have lasted forever and then another part of me wonders exactly how many confrontations would have to occurr to forever enforce this wonderful set-up. In the mornings it's especially hard, because he at least waits patiently until it's nice and bright and then runs into our room and announces it's light outside, it's morning, are you up, are you up, mommy...are you up, up, up... and he's so delightful, such an obvious morning person at this point in his young life, that it would seem a shame to break his spirit. On the other hand, naptime is now becoming quite draining...
Saturday, for example, when we heard him out of bed we flipped for who would have to handle the situation. I lost.
It stunk, too, because he was told if he got out of bed, no putt putt golf as we'd planned on. On a side-note, he has these books about a frog- Froggy Gets a Sister, Froggy goes to the Doctor, Froggy Gets Dressed, Froggy's First Kiss, Froggy Hits Puberty, (as Shaun added)... and there is one where the frog plays putt putt with his dad- well Evan blew that offer without a second thought, and I found him standing in his bedroom, door wide-open, holding a wet, pink Dum Dum between his fingers like a cigarette.
Where did you get that?
From the banana bowl.
But you can't reach the banana bowl...(No answer.)
Evan, you can't just have a lollipop whenever you want one.
Nooo, I neeeed this lollipop.
Before turning out of his bedroom to investigate, I noticed a ceramic coffee mug on his bedside table. That may not sound out of the ordinary to you- but for me it's like one of those picture book challenges you did when you were little: which of these objects does not belong? And sure enough, leaving his room, I stepped over a cold gallon of milk lying on its side in the foyer and wondered how I didn't even notice it on the way in, as I sleep-walked to discipline from the comfort of my bed. The chair pushed up to the kitchen counter explained how he found the lollipop, and putting the clues together, I realized he'd also tried to pour himself a mug of cold milk but couldn't get the cap off- thank heavens. This, along with the fact that there are many a mornings we can't find Madalyn beneath all the stuffed animals he's dumped into her bed before we get to her, means something will have to be done. So you see, our problem is two-fold; he needs both a new discipline technique, and a support group for lollipop-addicts. Forget the anonymous-factor, (as I've already given him up publically here.)
