Ruthie made her own peanut butter and jelly sandwich today, which was really fun to watch until it all went down hill very quickly. She was very proud, and I was very encouraging, until there was half an inch of peanut butter involved and she was about to slap on half a cup of jam.
I tried to be very Love and Logic about it by saying, “Are you sure you want that much peanut butter?” and “Can I help you scrape some of that off?” and so forth, to which she answered Yes and No respectively.
I figured as much.
I’m only on page 52 of Love and Logic, so I wasn’t sure what to do next in this latest quest for the right formula of parenting. So what did I do? I resorted to my old ways of taking control of the situation, though I did it calmly. She simply CAN’T have half a jar of jam on her sandwich, right?
She didn’t see it that way, and threw a fit, earning herself a time-out after making her own peanut butter sandwich like a big girl.
Doesn’t that suck?
Doesn’t that just make you want to shed a tear?
It all worked out in the end, and she enjoyed eating the sandwich (minus about half the peanut butter, which I scraped off during her time out). But again I will say it: this parenting thing is EXHAUSTING.