My 3-year-old, Millie, was not happy with lunch today – potato soup. She was eating crackers and pretending to eat the soup, but I’m a little smarter than that. After telling her she had to eat it to get the popsicle, I then tried to make sure she followed through. I picked up her spoon, filled it with soup and made a move for her mouth. She clenched her lips tightly and would not take the soup. She was disciplined for this move and afterwards I thought she’d finish the soup on her own, but five minutes went by and she didn’t. I took her bowl away and informed her there would be no popsicle.
She cried like only a 3-year-old who has just been scorned her beloved popsicle could. Her lips were pouty and she just looked so so so sad. I had a change of heart. I went to get the popsicle and brought it to her. I looked down at her with the popsicle extended and said, “This is called grace.” I explained that the next time I told her to eat something I expected her to do it, but that today I was going to give her the popsicle anyway. She nodded and took the popsicle and I thought maybe we’d had this great understanding about grace.
Two minutes later as I was wiping down the table, I overheard her exclaim to her sisters, “See this popsicle? Its name is Grace.”
Looks like we’ve still got some things to clear up.