My two-year-old can be more entertainment than is wanted sometimes. This past Sunday we were at a church meeting. We were in a different building than usual, watching a video broadcast in a very large, darkened room. It was also longer than usual for one meeting. In short, we were set up for a showdown. And two-year-old won. Oh did she win.
At first my two-year-old sat rather well. She was using a look and find book that she liked rather well. It was great until she found a picture of a whoopie cushion. She kept calling out loud that it was a “fart fart”. I’m not even sure how she knows what noise a whoopie cushion makes. I can probably thank eleven-year-old brother for that one. I took the book away and tried to get her interested in a new book. No go.
She was being entirely too crazy, so I took her for a little walk. On the way back to our seats, she stomped her church shoes as loudly as possible on the wooden gym floor. Heads turned from many directions.
When we finally got back to our seats, she got too loud again and I tried to quiet her. Her response? “I don’t want to be quiet!” She made certain to repeat this at the top of her lungs. With only a quick breath in between repeats. For the last fifteen minutes of the meeting. Nonstop. I am fairly certain by the end of the meeting everyone knew she didn’t want to be quiet. I know I did, though I ignored her. She had made that abundantly clear.
My wonderful neighbor was sitting behind us. After the meeting, she told me “You did a good job, Andrea.” She is very sweet.
I was thinking, “In what way did I do a good job? I didn’t stand up on my chair and scream at the top of my lungs just so I could drown out two-year-old’s noise? Or maybe that I didn’t just cut my losses and bail the meeting? Or perhaps that I simply will allow my two-year-old to turn three?”
At least my little sweetie knows what she wants. And isn’t afraid to express that. To the entire world. Hundreds of times an hour.
Perhaps she should become queen someday. But for now, she’ll have to settle for being my loud, sometimes obnoxious princess.