The past 48 hours have been rough for Rachel. I'm not sure why exactly, I'm just going by her general demeanor. Which has been cranky. Frustrated. Extremely put out. Nothing has made this child happy for days.
Last night Rachel's bath water was too cold and then she didn't want to sit in the available spot in the tub. Then she complained about the body wash and then, oh my goodness, I did not hand her the washcloth fast enough. As she was expressing her displeasure she waved her hands around - the better to make her point - and her right hand splashed into the water. At which point she screamed, "I don't want to be WET!" Which made me laugh. I'm only human.
My unfortunate parenting misstep caused an F4 level storm of rage to spew forth from my baby. Anna glanced over at the tantrum going on next to her and calmly asked if she could get out. I'm pretty sure she actually rolled her eyes as stepped past her sister out of the tub.
Twenty minutes later the whining continues, with some foot stomping thrown in for variety. I seek refuge in Girl Scout Cookies and get caught. Rachel sees me sneaking one in the dark kitchen and immediately begins her interrogation.
"WHAT is THAT?" she demands and holds out her hand, somehow expecting to be rewarded for two hours of screaming. I take a deep breath and tell her she may have one as soon as she eats her dinner. I think briefly about fleeing before the next onslaught but I am too late.
"I don't want dinner! It's yucky and disgusting! I don't want you to talk to me! Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! I don't want..." Suddenly, and for the tiniest second, she stops. She turns around and marches back to me. "I WANT YOU!" She throws herself onto my leg.
Four on Rachel looks so very different than it did on Anna.
Last night Rachel's bath water was too cold and then she didn't want to sit in the available spot in the tub. Then she complained about the body wash and then, oh my goodness, I did not hand her the washcloth fast enough. As she was expressing her displeasure she waved her hands around - the better to make her point - and her right hand splashed into the water. At which point she screamed, "I don't want to be WET!" Which made me laugh. I'm only human.
My unfortunate parenting misstep caused an F4 level storm of rage to spew forth from my baby. Anna glanced over at the tantrum going on next to her and calmly asked if she could get out. I'm pretty sure she actually rolled her eyes as stepped past her sister out of the tub.
Twenty minutes later the whining continues, with some foot stomping thrown in for variety. I seek refuge in Girl Scout Cookies and get caught. Rachel sees me sneaking one in the dark kitchen and immediately begins her interrogation.
"WHAT is THAT?" she demands and holds out her hand, somehow expecting to be rewarded for two hours of screaming. I take a deep breath and tell her she may have one as soon as she eats her dinner. I think briefly about fleeing before the next onslaught but I am too late.
"I don't want dinner! It's yucky and disgusting! I don't want you to talk to me! Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! I don't want..." Suddenly, and for the tiniest second, she stops. She turns around and marches back to me. "I WANT YOU!" She throws herself onto my leg.
Four on Rachel looks so very different than it did on Anna.
