A Can Do Attitude

Laura's Post:

Sophia's new catchphrase: "I can, and I will!"

(Not in a self-motivational carpe diem sort of way. More in a defiant, black hatted villain sort of way.) 

What the [Insert Word Here]‽‽‽

Sophia: Can I say, "What the heck‽"

Laura: No, you shouldn't say that. You could say, "What on Earth‽"

Me: Or, "What in the world‽"

Sophia: Can I say, "What the ketchup‽"

Laura: Uhh, I guess you could.

Me: Did she just say, "What the ketchup‽"

Sophia: What the banana‽‽‽...

The Hakuna Matata Philosophy

Sophia wholeheartedly singing to The Lion King soundtrack:

"...It means no worries for the rest of your days.
It's our problem-freeze. There's lots of peas. Hakuna matata!"

(Uh, Disney just called and says you have a copyright infringement problem... ; )

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

Me: Did you sleep well last night?
Sophia: Yes, I dreamed of flying cupcakes.

Bad Frogs

Sophia: Daddy, I had a bad dream!

I go to her bedroom and hear Pandora playing "A Prayer" by Celine Dion and Josh Groban.

Me: Maybe I should turn off this music so you don't have bad dreams.
Sophia: Yes, put on different music so that I don't dream about bad frogs....

The Great Big Bed War

Sunday night, while Laura was reading bedtime stories in the living room, I slid Sophia's twin sized bed over to the wall away from her bedroom window to create a bigger space and to have easier access to her blinds. What a difference a few feet makes! I should have done it a long time ago.

Then Sophia walked in.

Meltdown.

"I don't like my bed moved! I don't like it! Move it back! I hate my bed there! I won't sleep in it! I will stay up all night! I hate it! Move it back!..."

That explosive tantrum lasted a lot longer than it needed to, but I stood firm. The bed had to be moved, it wasn't going back, and she could decide to sleep in it or not. Her choice.

She chose not.

In protest, she slept on her bedroom floor that night.
And the next night.
And the next night.

Each night, Laura made sure she was settled in well enough with blankets and pillows and dolls and water.

Each day after I asked her if she was going to sleep on her soft and comfortable bed instead of the hard and uncomfortable floor, "I hate my bed moved," she would say.

Of course, I should have known. Don't move a daughter's bed without her explicit permission, or at least without giving her proper notice and time for appeals and negotiations, and perhaps a promise of ice cream to ease the pain of her disappointment.

Well, Wednesday, I got smart and casually suggested that we read bedtime books together in her bed, as we have done on occasion, instead of in the living room.

I also gently brought up the fact that her bed had been a gift from her grandmother, Mamo, who might be sad to learn that Sophia no longer liked her bed. Besides, did she know that Mommy and Daddy used to sleep in this bedroom and that our bed used to be against this wall instead of under the window?...

After she had asked a few clarifying questions, she reluctantly agreed that we could read books in her bed, but she reminded me that she still hated the bed and would still be sleeping on the floor until her bed was moved back under the window.

"Okay," I said.

With that, she climbed into her bed for the first time in three days, suddenly announced, "I think I changed my mind and I will sleep in my bed tonight," then cozied up next to her daddy to read.

"Okay," I said.

And just like that, a peace treaty was made, and the Great Big Bed War was officially ended.

Thursday:
Me: How did you sleep in your soft and comfortable bed last night?
Sophia: Good.
Laura: Are you going to sleep in it again tonight?
Sophia: No, I'm going to sleep on the floor again, because I hate that my bed was moved...

So, yet again, in an act of non-violent civil disobedience, she slept on her bedroom floor last night.

Sigh...

P.S. Since that last night of protest, she's been sleeping in her bed without complaint. Her just message delivered and received: 
Do unto a three year old as you would have her do unto you. 
Amen.

Chutes and Cutthroat Ladders

Laura was working, so Sophia and I had a game night together. We played several games for the first time: I won three games of Don't Break the Ice, then she beat me three to zero at Hi Ho Cherry-O, then we played a game of Chutes and Ladders, which was a close one. She nearly beat me:

"Ooh! I spun a three! Do you know what that means?!"

"You won?"

"I move my piece three spaces. One, two, three. You see? I get to climb the ladder to the winner's square! Yes! I won! Daddy won! Yay!"

"BUT I WANTED TO WIN!..."

Howls erupted and tears flowed. I held her close and let her cry a bit and told her that I was sad that she lost the game, but I was happy that I won, and I hoped that she could be happy for others when they win at games because what's important isn't really the winning or the losing but that we're enjoying each other's company while we're playing. Right?

She calmed down and said okay then asked to play a second game of Chutes and Ladders because she wanted to win a game. I explained that we would have to play tomorrow because it was time for her bath.

When the bathtub was ready, I called out with a high pitched resonant squeal that I like to make to imitate the noisy water coming through the pipes:

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" 

Taking a bath isn't her favorite activity, but she can't resist running to check out the odd noise coming from the bathroom, even though she knows it's me trying to lure her in with my Siren call. It works every time. Haha.

She poked her head in the doorway smiling coyly.

"Come in, honey," I said. "The bath is ready."

She came in slowly with a guilty expression on her face, then she whispered a quiet confession to me as I helped her get ready:

"I moved the boy and put the girl in the winner's square."

"What did you say?"

"I moved the boy and put the girl in the winner's square, so I can win the game. I won the game, Daddy. I won."

She wasn't confessing it the second time, merely stating a fact of life that I had just lost, that she had just won, and that I needed to just deal with it.

My loud laughter gave her permission to cut the serious act and get on with our bedtime ritual. However, I wasn't merely laughing at her rule-breaking audacity; I was also remembering the setup directions that I had read aloud at the start of the game:

INSTRUCTIONS

For 2 to 4 players/AGES 3+

This delightful game is simple and easy to play, even for children who can't read. Fun pictures help kids understand the rewards of doing good deeds as they climb up the ladders and the consequences of naughty ones as they slide down the chutes....

Apparently, my daughter hadn't understood the moral intent behind our game playing and just thought that Chutes and Ladders is about earning one's way to the top by any means necessary. Gordon Gekko would be proud, regrettably...

So tomorrow, before we play again, I'm planning on carefully re-reading the game's instructions to my little Lady Macbeth ; )