Oh, I think we all knew that this day would come. Samuel and I had been at playgroup for a few hours, we'd had lunch and it was getting close to nap time, but we didn't quite make it out in time. A block was thrown across the room, and I said.
"We don't throw blocks. Please go pick it up."
And you know what happened next, of course. He said no. And I was faced with the 'is this the hill I want to die on?' question. Every arguement, every difference of opinion, every debate I've had I ask myself "Is this worth it? Is it worth it to keep going with this battle? Is this the hill I want to die on?"
And today, I don't know, today it was. I was crampy and achy and fat and 30 weeks pregnant and taking that thrown block to heart in a million and one ways. And this was the hill I was going to die on.
I got up (in itself an indication of how serious I was) and I waddled over to him, and I held his hand and said:
"We don't throw blocks. You have to pick up that block that you threw and put it away."
"No."
And I sat down with him on my lap and pointed at that block.
"That block that you threw? That's your block to put away. Do you want me to help you put the block away?"
"No."
"Samuel Timothy Frederick you will put that block away."
"No."
"Fine. Then we'll sit here."
He cried. He cried and he twisted in my grip and he fought me tooth and nail. That block was not going away and so help him Lord he was going to die on that hill. We must have sat there for ten minutes. Screaming bloody murder. Me trying every option I knew. Would he like to push the box for the blocks over here and put it away? No. Would he like to pick it up and give it to me and we could walk together and put it away? No.
Ten minutes in he said he wanted to get up. We got up.
"Time to put that block away."
"No."
He threw himself on the floor screeeeeeeammming. I walked away. This wasn't acceptable so he followed me ON THE FLOOR.
"You threw that block. We don't throw blocks. You have to pick up that block and put it away."
"Nonononononono."
I cleaned up the other toys but that block sat on the carpet. "Don't pick up that block." I told the playgroup worker. "Why?" "Because" I said through gritted teeth "That's OUR block to deal with."
She backed away a little.
Samuel got up, dusted himself off and went to play with the dollhouse. I walked over and took the toys out of his hands.
"We have to pick up that block. No other toys until that block is picked up."
"NO!"
He tried for another toy.
"No. We do not get to play with any. other. toys. until you have picked up that block."
"No! Mama no! No!"
He fought me for the toy and I had to pry it out of his hands. He threw himself back onto the carpet. This was about 20 minutes in now. The other children were gone, the playgroup was over. It was time to leave. I picked him up and walked over to the block. He wanted to nurse.
"We can nurse once you've picked up the block."
"No."
"Do you want me to help you pick up the block?"
"No."
He collapsed into tears again. The playgroup workers said "It's 1, we're closed now."
I picked up the block and tossed it into the basket.
The whole way home I fumed. I fumed up the stairs. I fumed taking his coat off. I fumed putting him into the crib for a nap. He kicked and screamed and fell asleep.
Samuel: 1. Mama: 0.
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