He’s not really sorry.

 

(refusing to walk one more step, AND refusing my offer to ride in the stroller, Joseph stages a sit-in.)

(these are unrelated to the post, but naughty nonetheless.)

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Here is an example of what goes down at our house a million times a day:

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Joseph does something naughty. 

Not color-on-the-walls naughty (that only happens on special occasions) but something more every-day naughty like  dropping toys into the air conditioning vents.

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I ask him to stop.

He does it again.

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I tell him to stop more firmly, explaining why he shouldn’t do it (we can’t retrieve the toys, and I am pretty sure the hotel has a you-break-it-you-pay-to-repair-it policy on big expensive things like air conditioning units.)

He (without hesitation) does it again.  Or says something charming like, “NO!  I NOT STOPPING IT!”

I lose it.

Not as bad as I WANT to lose it, so kudos to me for that, but I yell and I punish.

And then I try to retreat into the kitchen or bathroom to give myself a minute to calm down before I lose it altogether.  It is amazing what a difference a minute can make to my patience level…

But it is not to be.

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Joseph follows me wherever I am.

He asks, “you happy or mad?  mama?  you happy or mad? you happy or mad…..” (repeat a million times)

I beg my inner self to hang on to my last shred of good-mama sanity.

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When I reply “ I’m a little mad Joseph because you didn’t listen to mama” he starts in.

“sorry, mama, sorry.  Sorry,  sorry.  Sorry mama!  You happy now?  You happy? sorry!  you happy?”

I thank him for his apology, but explain that I am not happy with his behavior and hope that he will refrain from disobedience  in the future.

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He has now attached himself to my body, preferably about my neck like a piece of 35-pound- groveling jewelry.

“Kiss, mama.  I give you kisses.  muah! kisses!  you mad?  muah!  kisses mama!  you need space? muah!  you happy?”

I try to go about my business.

“You’re PRETTY!  You’re PRETTY mama!  You happy now?  You’re super dooooooooper pretty!  You happy?”

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This usually gets me, because what gal doesn’t love compliments?, and I tell him that yes, I am now happy.

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At which point he detaches himself,

goes into the living room,

and sticks something else into the vent.