In a perfect world, your children would know when it's okay to push the boundaries and when you really mean business.
In a perfect world, when you are trying to get your child to do (or stop doing) something, there would come into your voice a certain menacing pitch with a slight echo that would let your child know that they need to stop jumping on the couch RIGHT NOW or else the world as they know it will come to an end. Or maybe when giving a must-be-followed command your eyes would glow in a certain shade of amber that serves as a visual cue to your child that it is TIME TO GO TO BED or TIME TO GET OUT OF THE BATH. These cues would be recognized and instantly obeyed.
I came up with this idea this afternoon when fighting yet another battle in the 'getting Maron to take a nap' war. In the last two and a half weeks she has taken three naps. I was sure that today I would get a fourth out of her. After a long and exciting morning of acupuncture/chiropractor appointments and a meetup with my mom's group at a local coffee shop I was SO sure that Maron would nap. She spent a solid hour running around the coffee shop with two of her little friends, laughing and squeeling, and by the time we got home she was rubbing her eyes and her temperament took on that distincly 'I'm so tired I'm cranky' feel. I laid her down for a nap and I was determined that she would take it. She would take a nap today even if it killed me...
... Fast forward to two and a half hours later when she was still awake, switching between bouts of screaming, crying and chatting to herself in a calm and pleasant manner. At that point I broke down and got her up. She's alright for the moment, but she doesn't fool me; by 7:00 tonight she's going to be a cranky, obstinate little monster, and bedtime will have to come early for her. Again.
I was so sure that I could get Maron to fall asleep this afternoon by the sheer force of my motherly will. I've always been quite skilled at bringing my will to pass, but today I realized that I have met my match. Maron's will to not take a nap was stronger than my will that she should. Or maybe it's just that, because she's my daughter, she has some sort of immunity to my power.
It doesn't really matter either way. In a perfect world Maron would know exactly when/how serious I am with my desire for her to nap, pick up her toys and stop jumping on the couch. My eyes would glow or my voice would tremble or sparks would dance at the end of my fingertips, and Maron would know to obey me that very instant. But this isn't a perfect world, is it?
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