The Pony Tail Incident

Mallory is a big fan of pony tails in her hair. Most mornings I ask her if she would like one or two, big or little. Most mornings I have two pony tail holders with me so that which ever choice she makes, I am covered. This was not the case this morning.

R was on drop off today because I had a staff meeting and then a middle school book fair. Therefore, I was trying to hurry a bit/cut corners to get out the door. I only grabbed one pony holder from upstairs. We were doing fine getting dressed as we watched Jo Jo. We went into the bathroom to comb hair and brush teeth and here is the story.

Mallory: I want two ponies.

Me: I only brought down one holder and one is good for today.

Mallory (in crocodile tears): But I want two ponies.

Me: It will be fine, we need to get moving.

Mallory (larger than life tears and sobbing and getting louder): I want two ponies.

Me (losing it): Mallory, one pony is fine! There is no reason for you to be crying and getting so upset.

As you can see, it just goes back and forth for quite some time. I eventually leave the bathroom after putting in one pony, yelling and swearing under my breath because little ears are big pitchers, etc. R takes over with the teeth brushing.

Mallory: I don't want to brush my teeth.

R: If you don't brush, you will get cavities and those hurt.

Mallory: I DON'T WANT TO BRUSH MY TEETH. (more sobbing)

R: YOU NEED TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH. DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD!

Now, for those of you who know R well, yelling is not something he does often. In fact, it's pretty rare. I then go back in and remove Mallory from the bathroom and sit her on the couch for her timeout. However, we have to go. Why is it that these meltdowns always happen when we have to get out the door?

I then rant and scream for about 30 seconds to get it out. I check on her. She says she's sorry, but just can't let it go. "I wanted two ponies." I give up and send them on their way.

By the time he got her to daycare, she was smiley and happy. She's Sybil. What happened to the happy little girl that we had? She insists on fighting and on having the last word. I really hate when I tell her to do something or not to do something and she says, but Mom. It makes my toes curl and the hair on my neck stand straight up. I am convinced the the terrible twos are a myth and the threes are the worst ever. My mom says that paybacks are hell, but she's THREE! I didn't start this crap until I was at least 10. At least that's how I remember it.

So goes our lives here.
Carma