(post renamed 9/9/05)
Today S fell apart into little sniffly crocodile tear pieces when it was time to join her gymnastics class, and no amount of tender loving persuasion, firm parenting, positive discipline, bribes or threats could entice her to either explain what was wrong, or join the group--even late, even with me walking her to the floor and sitting with her while the instructor and other kids encouraged her to play with them. Of course I didn't really bribe or threaten her. Don't be silly. I wanted to. But I resisted.
No, the closest I came to poor parental choices, once I gently, lovingly took her away from the building, was that I refused to let her listen to The Vile Village CD in the car because she (and R & I) are enjoying it so much, it felt like it would be rewarding her behavior. Not that her behavior was bad - no, of course it wasn't. Did I say it was bad? No. Rationally, I can see that she was just tired, and/or feeling overwhelmed by the large group of mostly older kids, and/or upset that her favorite teacher didn't happen to be there today. But I was also, myself (around whom my world turns) feeling frustrated and embarrassed and like an utter failure as a human being for not being able to coerce her into acting like a cheerful little group participant. That's all. No baggage, here. Maybe the teeniest overnight bag of spite, but no real
Samsonite.
Besides, after about two minutes, I turned on the CD.
But only once I had a better understanding of why she wouldn't go to class, and had her reassurance that if I let her (read: me) listen to the completely delightful Tim Curry narrated Limony Snicket book, she would not make her six-year-old face dissolve into a dramatic Mask of Tragedy next week just so she could skip gymnastics (which I have PAID FOR) to listen to more of the recording.
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