Yesterday I was so proud of myself. Joshua got up at 7am, which, when it happens, is glorious. And instead of stumbling downstairs, turning on “Super Why” and dozing to cartoons for an hour, I kept the T.V. off, plopped him in his chair, and had a wonderful time making him breakfast, talking to him, laughing, and simply enjoying the morning.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think this would now be the norm … but I was hopeful.
Today, it is 6:32 am and my almost two year old is already in “bedroom time”, throwing a pretty epic fit. Good times, good times.
Today he woke at 4am and wouldn’t let me put him back in his crib after rocking him a little. So, he slept next to me in bed until 6am at which time he promptly awoke and said, “Down” a dozen times. I didn’t even try to fight it—the kid was up and there was nothing I could do about it.
We came down, and I let him watch Curious George while I changed his diaper. I let him choose between cereal or a shake for breakfast.
He threw a fit because he wanted a cracker.
He finally got in his high chair and starting drinking his shake and playing with his Cheerios. Still teary and sobbing off and on.
Then he threw his cup because he thought the shake was gone. (How DO you explain to a two year old that if you tip the straw up upside down, it doesn’t work?!)
So, due to my new Love & Logic techniques, I sang the “Uh oh” song, and put him in his crib.
It’s 6:41 am and he’s still screaming.
I miss yesterday morning.
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