Two Little Words

I wish I could say that Finley is the perfect child. 

I wish she never disobeyed or had tantrums. But then again, she’s a toddler. To be honest, she really is a good kid for the most part. I think the problem is, we’re so used to her being good that when she is naughty it seems out of control, crazy bad. And the other problem is that she’s so rarely naughty, I think we get caught off guard when she goes off.

The real hard part is that at this age, she’s not trying to be naughty. She’s not motivated to do bad, she’s just testing her boundaries… and ours, for that matter. When we tell her not to bang her spoon on her plate, she doesn’t keep doing it to try and break the plate. She keeps doing it to see how long she can go before we stop her. And when we do, it makes her mad and she cries. But sometimes, it’s hard to remember that. When she’s banging on the plate ALL THE TIME, it can start to grate on even the most even-tempered parent.

The thing to remember in all of this – if you can stop and breathe and remember – is that she’s just learning about good and bad and naughty and nice. This means she doesn’t know when she’s gone too far or is pushing Momma and Poppa to the edge.

Case in point: Thursday night Heather had to stay late at school, so I picked her up and brought her home. Not so bad, right? Except I had a conference call with clients in Asia and Australia that included a five-minute part I had to lead. I thought I was good to go. I set her in her high chair and had her favorite foods at her disposal. Things were looking good until right before my turn to talk. That’s when she started this long, loud whining noise. And she wouldn’t stop. So here I am, presenting to a world-wide audience while the Finley siren is droning on in the background. I’m sure anyone on the call who is/was a parent completely understood, but to my dismay I wound up absolutely furious.

I’m thinking it was maybe a bit of built-up tension of me trying to be the good, understanding Poppa for the last 23 months. And there was probably a bit of embarrassment from what happened in the phone call. Neither are an excuse, but I am happy to say I took my frustration out on one of my bed pillows and not my daughter. And as soon as my little 5-second tantrum was over, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because it really must have been pretty funny.

So, I straightened up the pillow walked over to Finley, gave her a great big kiss and said, “I’m sorry.” She probably had no clue why I said those two little words. But it didn’t matter. I knew why. Because for a split second – and I know this won’t be the last time – I was more concerned about how I looked to my clients than I did to her. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t mean it. She just wanted attention.

Obviously, next time around I will do a little better in the planning and not put myself or Finley in that situation. One that was ultimately doomed to fail, anyway. Maybe that’s why I was so mad… because I probably knew it was going to happen.

But my story isn’t over just yet. You see, Finley is not just testing us on what she can get away with… she’s testing us on HOW we deal with it. And don’t ever think that kids aren’t watching and paying attention. They are a lot smarter than you think.

Saturday and Sunday was our first full weekend since the removal of the binky and she had a real tough time taking naps. In fact she didn’t. Saturday was the worst. We set her in her crib and for almost an hour she cried and bounced and yelled and screamed. We would go in every five to ten minutes to try and calm her down, but she would have none of it. We were both at our wits end by the time we decided to just let her get up and play. And as Heather lifted her out of the crib and set her on the floor, Finley ran into the living room and came right up to me. With remnants of tears in her eyes, she looked up and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Those two little words made every bit of frustration melt away.

Even as I write this blog, I’ve been up twice to calm her down for bed time. And as she fights sleep and says no when we ask her to lie down, I can’t help but think of the good in all of this. Not only is she learning – through us – about patience and understanding, but I just realized I’m doing something I haven’t done in a long time and probably won’t be doing in a few years. I rocked her to sleep in my arms and I liked it. She doesn’t quite fit on my chest like she did as a newborn, but I could feel her soft breath in my ear as I rubbed her back just like old times.

She’s not a baby, anymore. She’s looking to us to show her the way. And every once in a while – if we’re lucky and we look at the big picture – we’ll realize she’s showing US the way. Sometimes it just takes two little words to remind us.