It has come to my attention that shrieking and letting my mouth fall open in horror when Clara sucks diaper rash cream off her fingers is an ineffective way to get her to stop. Also, waving my hands in the air, biting my lips and moaning does not keep her from grasping my potted plants by the leaves and/or blossoms to lift them. Whispering invocations to multiple deities and twisting my mouth does not keep her from licking the snot from her upper lip while I try to wipe it off.
Also, shouting in a panicked way and chasing her in mismatched shoes while she makes a run for the street does not dissuade her from trying it again. In fact, it only makes her giggle and run faster because she thinks I'm chasing her.
Simon says I have to modulate my tone and facial expressions when setting boundaries with Clara. For those of you who don't know Simon, he is a master of subtlety (but apparently even he has problems with the correct parenting tone. Whenever he tells Clara something is "yucky," she immediately puts it in her mouth and makes a gulping sound).
"Okay," I told Simon. "Maybe we need to set boundaries in a sing-song voice. Like, 'Cla-RA, we don't eat the CHEER-ios we find un-der the FRIDGE.'"
We practiced this a little bit. It sounded annoying more than anything.
A book we have on raising the perfect toddler says that toddlers are roughly analogous to Neanderthals in emotional development. The book advises speaking to a tantrum-ing toddler in a Neanderthal way. I try to do this and Simon is struck by the absurdity of it. He points out that the author was simply making a statement about simple speech, and that it's probably unnecessary for me to include grunting.
"Maybe we should just be more matter-of-fact," Simon said.
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