Call me old fashioned, but I was under the impression that you couldn’t ask for snacks while in time-out. Granted, she’s two and maybe doesn’t know the rules yet. However, I would think that asking for a tasty morsel would be an obvious “no no”. I mean, she was in trouble for having one her epic tantrums. I think. She’s always in trouble for something, that I sometimes don’t know why I am carrying her upstairs to her place of exile.
So I place her in her crib. Legs flailing, and shrieking as though I’m about to drop her into a dark hole. It’s a pretty pink and white crib for goodness sake. I’d trade places with her in heart beat if I didn’t think the thing would break. The perfect place for a nap. She sits there Indian style screaming to get out, while her hands are gripped tightly around the bars. She did that on purpose to try and make her mother feel bad for putting her youngest in a jail like setting. I did not feel a twinge of remorse. I left the door open and went about my business of doing laundry, and whatever else I could think of during this time when I didn’t have her under foot. About 5 minutes go by, and she’s still freaking out. Then I hear silence. I pop my head in, and she’s staring at me as though she is really thinking hard about something. Trying to find just the right words. As our eyes meet, I tilt my head to the side, and feel in the air that this child isn’t done. The look in her eyes was one of pure confidence. I secretly admired that. I swear I heard that old west music when tumble weeds go by, and town folk are closing their shutters before the two men in black have a shoot out.
Ok, I thought, as I turned away. Then clear as a bell I hear . . . “Rice Krispy Treat and Juice?”. Stopped me in my tracks cold. Did she just ask for a snack while in time-out? Really? The concept was foreign to me. Who does that? Did she just ask in a sweet cute little voice, as though she was in a park with the family flying a kite? Really? I came to the conclusion that she knew exactly what she was doing. She calmed herself down before asking. She thought that would aid in her quest to jimmy this out of me. Of course I would say no if she’s screaming at me freaking out. Then, during said tantrum, ask for a snack? She knew. Oh she knew. Prior to her time-out, she just had lunch and about 8 gallons of milk, so she was good to go.
I turned back to look at her. By now she’s standing up and looking at me as if to say . . . . “I’m quiet and I’m CUTE! Now gimme a snack while I languish in this purgatory.” Perhaps bread, and a tiny bit of water would have been more fitting in this instance. There was no way I could say yes to her request. Let’s get this over with. “No”. I didn’t yell it. I simply said; “No”. Well . . . You would have thought I threw down some snapping rabid alligators, trailed by angry pit bulls and one rotweiller for good measure into her deep dark time-out abyss. Oh and throw in a cat. It doesn’t even have a be a tiger or anything. A regular cute cuddly house cat will suffice. She hates cats.
She threw her little arms up, and flung herself back as though her life was over. She let out a scream that I have never heard from her before, or since actually. In her world, there was no hope for anything else ever again. I am quite certain she got an ab workout during that tantrum. I had to shut her door for this one. After about 15 minutes pass, I hear silence – Again. Half scared, I check in on her. She’s sound asleep. Thank God!!! It is sooooo tiring being bad.