Barbie - You’re In Time-Out!
LA Daddy | September 4
I’m convinced my oldest daughter is not mine. Not biologically. No… L.A. Mommy didn’t boink the pool boy. I’m quite sure, however, that my daughter’s father is Satan.
She’s four and a half years old. And those little horns have been poking through for about a year now. Man, forget the “Terrible Two’s”! It’s the threes and fours you gotta watch out for!
Okay, soooo I’m really stating the obvious. Toddlers are obnoxious. We all know that.
But my wife and I (okay, my wife) had come up with a solution we were sure would work just fine. Wanting to avoid being the type of parents who beat their children within inches of their lives (and pelvic bones), we tried the whole “Time Out” thing for a while. That hasn’t always worked out. Not so much…
Our new cunning plan was to revolutionize this Time Out B.S. theory! We wouldn’t put our child in time-out… Oh, no! Whenever our eldest would act up… we would put her toys in time-out.
Fiendish, I know. We’re clever that way.
If L.A. Toddler were to defy us, do something bad, or otherwise piss us off, we decided we would place her favorite toy du jour into a time out. And that time-out lasted the whole day. If bad behavior persisted, we would add another toy to the time out purgatory. Any more crazy attitude might mean that a time out for Barbie or Barney or Tigger could last for a whole week.
We were going to stick to our guns, too. No giving in. No relenting and giving back the favorite toy. No sir. Never.
We cackled and rubbed our fiendish little hands together like mad scientists in a B-movie from the 50’s.
And our plan would have worked, too. Had it not been for the fact that L.A. Toddler is smarter than we are. She’s always been one of those odd kids that has no dedication to one type of toy. There was no beloved blanket or stuffed animal. No toy she couldn’t live without.
We put one of her toys in time-out for the first time. We expected much wailing and gnashing of teeth. She simply smirked at us, slid off her chair, and walked away. We looked at each other, watched her pick up another toy, and stared in disbelief as she happily played with something else.
And since we’re not that bright, we’ve continued our failed strategy. At this point, I can’t park my car in the garage. There are 27 boxes full of toys - all in “Time Out” - filling the room for the next 5 days. And Satan’s spawn my daughter is in the house playing with the cat’s toys (full of catnip.)
Should I be worried about the catnip?
