Parents often talk about the “Terrible Twos.” Many parents find
that the “Terrible Threes” are worse. But my son appears to be heading directly
into the “Terrible Fours.” His twos weren’t so bad. His threes involved the
occasional tantrum, but he learned to control himself reasonably well. But as
he approaches his fourth birthday in a few months, his willfulness and
contrariness are getting to be an issue.
Here’s a typical conversation in our house:
Son: Mama, I want a snack.
Me: I will get you a snack as soon as I finish what I’m doing.
[5 minutes later]
Me: OK, Buddy, what would you like for a snack, watermelon or animal crackers?
Son: Um, I’m not hungry.
[2 minutes later]
Son: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! I WANT ANIMAL CRACKEEEEEEERSSSS!!!!!
Me: How about you ask politely?
Son: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE CAN I HAVE ANIMAL CRACKERS!!!!!
Me: Here are your animal crackers, and some lemonade.
Son (pouting): I want watermelon! And juice!
Me: I will get you a snack as soon as I finish what I’m doing.
[5 minutes later]
Me: OK, Buddy, what would you like for a snack, watermelon or animal crackers?
Son: Um, I’m not hungry.
[2 minutes later]
Son: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! I WANT ANIMAL CRACKEEEEEEERSSSS!!!!!
Me: How about you ask politely?
Son: MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE CAN I HAVE ANIMAL CRACKERS!!!!!
Me: Here are your animal crackers, and some lemonade.
Son (pouting): I want watermelon! And juice!
(For the record, he got animal crackers and lemonade.)
I’ve begun to learn to tune out the constant chorus of, “But
I don’t WANNA!!!” every time I ask him to sit down to a meal, or go upstairs to
get ready for bed, or stop playing with a particular toy. He could be starving
to death, but if I tell him he has to sit down at the table for supper, he
refuses on principle. Even when he’s struggling to keep his eyes from closing
from sheer exhaustion, he will loudly protest going to bed, just to prove that
he can.
He’s old enough that he’s gotten a tiny taste of
independence, and he likes it.
I try to give him options whenever I can, to let him have
some control. If he fights getting dressed, I let him pick the shirt he wants
to wear, or I’ll offer him a choice of two or three different vegetables at
dinner time, or I’ll suggest three or four games or toys he can amuse himself
with. But that’s not enough for my contrary boy. He doesn’t want Mama’s advice
or suggestions. He wants to do what he wants, when he wants. But the results of
that would not be pretty.
If I gave in to his contrariness, an average day would
consist of waffles and juice for breakfast, six juice boxes and three brownies for
a snack while he played computer games for six hours, swimming in the pool
while having a lunch of another brownie and some lemonade, spending the
afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese, ice cream with gummy bears and whipped cream for
dinner, riding his bike without a helmet, and then four more hours of computer games and never actually going to
bed. All while wearing no pants.
And as much as I wouldn’t mind spending a day like that
myself every once in a while (well, except for the Chuck E. Cheese part), all
of that in a single day is probably not a good idea for a little boy. But maybe
I’ll buck conventionality just a little bit and we can have ice cream with
gummy bears tonight (after dinner, not instead of dinner). And if people raise
their eyebrows at me, so be it. I’ve got a little contrariness, myself.
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