Hannah picks up a boot and throws it. It was a baby boot, very soft and weighing about one ounce, but we have to discipline her on principle. She's told to stop. She does it twice more. I pick her up and plunk her down in the hallway -- in other words, she's in a time-out.
She doesn't take it particularly well. "Talk to me," she screams at the top of her lungs, "TALK TO ME!"
"No can do," I say. "You threw something when you knew you weren't supposed to, so now you're in a time-out. When you quiet down, I'll start counting to a minute, and then you can come out."
"But I want you to talk to me!"
"No, that's the point of the time-out. You're supposed to sit quietly and think about what you've done."
She doesn't care. "Taaaaaaaaaalk to meeeeeee," she wails to anyone who can hear, which at this point is everyone in Atlanta. "Talk to me! You have to talk to me!" She pauses, and gets an idea. "Talk to me about throwing stuff!"
3 comments:
Hannah is just getting used to competing with Malachi and Bru for your attention.
Reminds me of how my little brother - as a toddler - used to reach out and grab my chin to turn my head back towards him if I looked away while we were talking.
Ariel always grabs my chin! His new thing is, "Don't talk OVER me!" when I cut him off mid-sentence.
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