Last night Alex did something – I think it was shouting “NO” at me, but it may have been unfolding all my folded towels or opening the refrigerator and drinking syrup straight from the bottle – and I put him in time out. Right now time out is very effective with A. because it removes him from the action and gives him time to settle down. It diffuses things, if you will.
Anyhoo, all I have to do for time out is say, “Alex, you did so-and-so. You need to go in time out for three minutes.” And he walks to our bedroom, climbs up on the bed, and sits quietly until David or I go into the room when time is up. Then we talk about what he did (insert applicable Scripture here), we make sure he understands the practical issue and the heart issue, we wait for an apology, and we exchange “I love you’s.” It’s a pretty clean transaction all in all. An added benefit is that it gives me time to calm down before I deal with him…mamas need time outs, too, you know.
Pretty reasonable, right? Level-headed, even?
But you haven’t heard the rest of the story.
So last night when A. used the coffee table as his personal trampoline or emptied all the dog food into the pantry or whatever it was that landed him in time out, I followed him into the bedroom, made sure he was settled, and went back into the kitchen. I was trying to get supper ready and had some prep work to do…I was chopping chicken, dicing onions, sauteeing vegetables, draining noodles, mixing everything together, warming bread, and putting the main dish in the oven.
Now, if you’re thinking, “Gosh, it seems like that would take longer than 3 minutes,” you are so right. It did take longer than 3 minutes.
Because, you see, I forgot about my child. The one who was in time out. I pretty much just left him in the bedroom. For at least 25 minutes.
I had not heard a peep out of him, so I panicked when I realized what I’d done and figured that I would no doubt find him with a large pair of scissors and substantial chunks missing from his hair, or at the very least with all my Sharpies uncapped and our coverlet as his canvas. But when I went back in the bedroom, he was sitting there just as calm as you please. He looked no different than he did at the beginning of his marathon time out session, except for the fact that he had removed his Pull-Up and placed it in the middle of the bed.
I don’t know why he decided that going commando would be the extent of his imprisoned rebellion, but I sorta chalked it up to the fact that he’s a male and every so often they just need to roam free. I don’t even pretend to understand why.
For what it’s worth, I don’t think he was traumatized by what I am now referring to as The Unfortunate Time Out Incident. But he did get a couple of packs of Veggie Tales fruit snacks as part of my pennance.
I figure we’ll settle up the rest of my pennance when he reads this post at age 20 and consequently sends me the therapy bill.
“I don’t know why he decided that going commando would be the extent of his imprisoned rebellion,…” That was the point I cracked up out loud! To funny! :D
As we all know, I don’t pretend to know one dang thing about child rearing. However, I do know about dogs, and I think children and canines are a lot alike. I’ve always been told that dogs have no real concept of time (which one reason why they don’t’ wear watches), so it makes sense to me that small children don’t either. Don’t be too hard on yourself. He probably didn’t know the difference…and maybe it gave him some extra time “of reflection” and you some much needed peace. :)
Deep thoughts by:
There are 5 of us girls, and by the time I and my youngest sister came along, the oldest 2 sisters had a couple of kids, too, so my nieces and nephews weren’t much younger than I was. Mom occasionally grabbed the wrong kid for some offense and whaled the tar out of us. Then when she discovered the real culprit, she spanked them, too. She always said that even if we weren’t guilty of that particular crime, we had missed some along the way that we should have gotten. :)
So don’t worry, even if A. got a little more time out than he needed that time, it will all balance out. He wasn’t traumatized too much. ;)
Oh, my goodness… that was hillarious. Now, I’m afraid of what I have to look forward to when my son gets older… Coffee table for a trampoline? Ugggh!
And, I didn’t know they had Veggie Tale treats!?! Where’d you get them?
Veggie Tales fruit snacks are at Publix, on the aisle with all the cookies and crackers and whatnot. A. LOVES them…asks for them after supper every single night. If you’re not close to a Publix, I can hook you up. :-)
oh too funny! i love it that he just took off his pull up and placed it in the middle of the bed. hahahah!
Didn’t you tell me on the phone that A. is like 17 years old? Why is he still in a pull-up? Kidding!
Very cute story and I’m still convinced you should be nominated for Mother of the Year. Not inspite of your story but because of it. :)
:) Funny story.
I’m new to your blog, and was purusing your recipes. Yum! They look so good I can’t wait to give some of them a try. Thanks for posting them.
This cracked me up! :)