We appear to be in a standoff.
Things might get worse before they get better. They have already escalated quickly.
I understand. You’re angry. You’re a little scared. You aren’t sure how this is all going to play out. Let me help you.
I know how this is going down.
First of all let me tell you that we want the same thing. What do you want? You want your sock back on, and you want your pants on. I really do want the same thing.
I know in your mind this is all my fault. You didn’t ask to have your diaper changed. I did that to you. The only way to defend yourself was obviously to take off your sock and throw it at me.
Here’s the thing- that doesn’t scare me. True, I have a known hatred and disgust for used socks. That does not include yours though. I clean your poop every day. I have caught your vomit in my bare hands. The fact is very little coming from you can disgust me enough to not deal with it.
And your socks are still tiny and cute. No one is scared of them.
The thing is, you’ve overplayed your hand. You keep showing me your bare foot and crying. You point to your naked legs and complain. I have what you want- the sock and the pants. Yet you refuse to come near me.
You have nothing to negotiate with. I am sitting in front of the only exit to the room. All your toys are outside this room. Your sippy, your snacks, your freedom. All of this lies through me.
I am no longer going to negotiate with you. I know how this all turns out. You want me to chase you down and make this a game. What you failed to take into account is that I am seven months pregnant with twins and already sitting down. I can wait you out, no problem. I suggest you look at the facts, accept that you have lost this battle, and let me put your sock and pants on you. No one needs to end up in time out over this. I don’t want that, you don’t want that. Let me help you. Give up this losing fight and we can all go about our day.
Your move, Toddler.
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