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She’s 4, and she’s big but she’s little.
She thinks she’s plenty big to brush her own teeth (including putting on globs of oh-my-so-expensive-flouride-free toothpaste), get her own snacks (spaghetti noodles on the floor), cut and paste and paint to her heart’s content. (Mess. Oh. The mess.)
She’s a little schizophrenic lately. Some mornings she wakes up cheery, cleans up her bedroom before pouncing in our bed with a huge smile and curly bedhead. She’s happy to cuddle and read.
Other days – today, for instance – cuddles and hugs dissolve into screaming fits, temper tantrums, an absolute lack of obedience, provocation of the little man, and Mommy and Daddy nearing insanity.
Oh, Madame Strong-Willed Child. I don’t think your mommy was quite prepared for this journey. I am loving the sweet days we see now and then. I love reading and kisses and honestly, the painting and play-dough messes don’t bother me that much.
But the mean-spirited taunts at David … the absolute refusal to obey … the willfulness that makes you play through rest time each and every day even though you’re tired and we both know it … they make Mommy stop and wonder and cry and pray.
Will it always be a battle? Will we ever truly figure it out? Or is this is a parade to preteendom, never to end? Because in my impregnated, exhausted, mother-to-almost-3 state, I don’t have that much fight left in me.