NikkiZ is really pushing our limits of tolerance and patience in the Zoot household. Last night we were in her bedroom and she reached on top of the dresser to where some beads were. We’ve been working on a necklace and I’ve told her a million times that the beads can’t be on the floor because we don’t want AndyZ to get them. She looked at me, put her hand toward the back of the pile, and pushed them all on the floor. The ones that she missed with the first swipe, she went back to knock onto the floor as I sat there in shock at her blatant disobedience.
(Why? Why was I in shock?)
I immediately told her to go to timeout. She ran there excitedly. There are few things worse than trying to punish a child and seeing that it doesn’t phase them at all. She didn’t even act upset. So…I did what we’ve been doing a lot of lately. Piled on more punishments to see if anything else would upset her. I told her she had to help me put all of her necklace kits in a bag because we were going to throw them away. I braced myself for the tears…
“Okay!” She ran enthusiastically to the bedroom to help with that particular punishment. And later? She bragged to MrZ about it. “Momma threw my necklaces away because I was breaking the rules.” (Insert evil grin here.)
I find myself, at least 10 times a day, putting my hands over my face and taking VERY DEEP BREATHS. I also find myself savoring the few times any punishment actually seems to upset NikkiZ, because they usually don’t even phase her. She intentionally chooses NOT TO CARE. Because she knows it MAKES ME KRAZEE.
A family member told me this weekend that, “3 is the new 2.” As in…no one is talking about the Terrible Twos anymore. Twos? Terrible? What? No…now it’s all about the Insanity Inducing Threes. And we’re not even three yet. We still have another 5 weeks of TWO. I’m predicting that at some point in the next 12 months, I will find myself filling my first ever prescription for anxiety medication.
And I will be doing it with a smile on my face and a 3-year old locked in my trunk.