Lessons in Discipline

So disciplining a toddler is interesting to say the least. You're basically trying to teach someone whose mind is so taken over by learning words and animals and colors and climbing that there is just no room left to learn appropriate behavior.

Unfortunately for us parental units, there is plenty of room left in our brains for frustration the millionth time a sippy cup gets tossed to the floor or a toy gets thrown in Marti's direction. We don't need to pay for mental hospital bills when the sippy-tossing makes us insane or neurosurgery for the pug's damaged brain, thus discipline must happen.

Discipline with a toddler is not always effective, but we're at least trying not to let our daughter run around like a heathen. This means stern talking-tos and sort-of timeouts.

The other day, Alan and I were hanging out in Avery's room. She was terrorizing Marti, and toys were getting a little too close to the pug for our comfort. So we were redirecting her attention and telling her not to throw.

A note on Marti: She's gotten her tail pulled and gotten bonked by books a time or two, but we've avoided real harm. And she's an equal player. She hassles Avery and steals crackers. She is also more than able to go elsewhere to save herself but most often is right in our faces and right in the path of destruction. I mean, Avery was lying down, kicking her feet the other day and Marti was close enough to the feet that she had to flinch during each kick but refused to move farther away.

But back to our discipline. As Toddzilla Avery is being a menace, Alan is barely able to contain his laughter. Seeing him trying not to laugh only makes me want to laugh, so I was doomed from the beginning. But the hilariously bad behavior necessitated a timeout.

I pull Avery to the side. She's standing in front of her bedroom door. This face is standing in front of the bedroom door.

The stern talking-to goes like this.

Me: Avery. You cannot throw things at Marti. You sit here—[cue my inner monologue: "Crap. She's standing. I don't want her to get sitting and standing confused."]—or stand—until I say you can play. That was not nice. You don't want to hurt Marti. So you just sit here—[ah! I did it again!]—or stand—for a minute.

Cue laughter from the backseat parent, and I just couldn't keep it together. Needless to say, Avery did not exactly have the most difficult 10-second timeout in the world. It's truly so hard to be tough when you're being a moron and the kiddo is just so darn funny.

She's really picking up on the things she shouldn't be doing. It just doesn't stop her from doing them. Hence, she knows how to correctly respond to my seriously stern Mommy voice:





As Avery would say, "Oh boy." It's going to take some practice to be tough when we're up against this sweet little face.