Still on strike here. I wondered what would happen if I just didn't say a word to my obstreperous little tot about the potty or food or getting dressed all morning.
Here's what:
He went through three Pull Ups before noon, one of which contained a poop that he casually dumped into the potty and flushed, announcing matter of factly, "I pooped."
I fixed only what he asked for. And he only asked for most things after he saw me fixing for myself - peanut butter and jelly sammie, a kiwi, some Pirate's Booty. So today I actually ate well instead of fixing food that he doesn't eat and starving myself and that new baby I'm growing.
He was still in his pajamas by nap time. Getting him up there proved less difficult than I thought, what with me being on strike and all. A few gentle warnings, a choice - you walk or I carry - and finally a count to three. I carried him up. He finally wanted to get out of his pajamas when he was in bed. Go figure.
It even works well with the baby. She's been doing her own thing all day, too. Right now, we're listening to my EmmyLou Harris channel on Pandora and she's tearing apart my office supply cabinet. Having a blast if you ask me! My husband has been telling me this for years ... ignore the kids, let them do their own thing, they're happier that way. I should listen to him more often.
Of course, when he comes home, he'll probably be tempted to cross the picket line. That's okay. I'll take scab labor any day.
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