You Choose

This morning, I actually said to my daughter, “My hell Sophie! Take your toothbrush out of your butt!”

At school, we’re learning a classroom management program called “Teaching with Love and Logic.” A big piece of the plan is allowing kids to make choices whenever possible—thus letting them feel in control of themselves—their situation—and not having to take control by acting out and other things. So—instead of giving 4 homework assignments a week, the teacher trickily gives 5, and tells the students, “You can choose any 1 homework assignment to skip each week.” If you don’t care if a paper is written or typed tell the kids it’s their choice. This also gets you out of telling them what to do all the time, as in, “You can either talk more quietly, or you can come sit at the front of the classroom by me.” You get the idea.

Seemed reasonable, and as the Teaching With Love and Logic is based on Parenting With Love and Logic, I decided to try a bit of it with Sophie.

So at DQ yesterday with my mom, Soph was, of course, being a total spaz. I had to pee, so I said, “Sophie, you may either come into the potty with mom, or stand quietly next to Grandma." To which Sophie responded, “I’m going to look at the love day cakes!” and ran over to the freezer stocked with heart shaped ice cream cakes. I took a deep breath and said, “Sophie. You can choose between 2 things. Either come into the potty with mom, or stand quietly next to Grandma.” Soph looked thoughtful for a minute and said, “Look! That one has angels! Mom! Mom! That one is the cutie cutiest one. I want it! I want it! Can I have it?” So—I hoisted her in my arms squealing and took her into the bathroom with me.

After getting our treats, and were sitting at the table, Soph stood up on the bench and started climbing over the back. I said, “Sophie. You can either sit on you bottom next to Grandma, or sit on your bottom next to Mom. You choose.” She responded by throwing a leg over the back of the bench, (luckily no one was sitting behind us) waving her arm in the air, and yelling, “I’m a ropin’ cowgirl!”

Back to this morning—Soph (naked of course) was cruising around the house with her new $9.00 electric mermaid toothbrush. She was going back and forth between brushing her teeth, and experimenting with how the brush felt on different places. She put it on her forhead—on her foot. I should have seen it coming. So—I watch the toothbrush be poked between her butt cheeks, and for an instant think, “OK—what do I say. ‘Sophie, you may either put your toothbrush in the garbage, or wash it off and use it only for brushing teeth,' or maybe, 'Sophie, would you rather take your toothbrush out of your butt, or have me spank it?'"

In the end, I went with, “My hell Sophie! Take your toothbrush out of your butt!”

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Ummm. I get more sympathy now?

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
So—that freakin’ toothbrush was expensive. If I wash it in REALLY hot water, or maybe run it through the dishwasher, would it be super gross to still let her use it?