Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Daisies.

Ugh. Daisies. LMC and I were making such strides in the world of gardening... then a more laid-back Cagle got involved...

"She might not have to go every day...." (yes, she does)
"You can't schedule these sorts of things" (yes, you can)
"The mood has to strike her...." (what is this? A Cialis commercial?)

So, trying to be more like the Non-Type-A personality Husband, I adhered to this Cialis kind of thinking. Gone went the fiber, er, fertilizer. Gone the schedule. Gone the clean panties.

It has become two steps forward to thirty three steps backward.

Sitting "in" her garden ("on" her garden?), she screams at me, "I  NO T-T POTTY! I NO T-T!" Time out turns into naked time out as she shucks her clothes in defiance. I close the door, eat my waffle leaned against the wall, and contemplate if diapers would be cool on an 8 year old. Screaming Naked Baby wailing in her crib until she has forgotten why she was crying. Maybe she's cold? It's not we have the heater running.

Sigh.

"LMC, are you ready to talk about it?" I call from the other side of her bedroom door to the SNB. My sunglasses have fallen to my nose and they stay put.

NO! NO! NO! I NO T-T POTTY! STOP IT, MA-MEE.

A few minutes later, the door slowly opens: "Take a breath little lady and listen to me. We are going to go as soon as you calm down."

A breath later.... "I go T-T potty, ma-mee?" with a smile and forgotten tears on her cheeks.

SURE! Let's go!

A successful "Mountain T-T" and we move forward.
(Why in the world would a darling little girl call it "mountain TT" you might find yourself asking.... we're getting there)

Four times today, she has watered her garden and four times she has been asked... "Do you need to [plant a daisy]?"

Noooo.... in that sing-song voice only a 2 year old can have.

After lunch and watering her garden, she walks to the den where she says, "Uh-Oh. [daisy] in my panties." she starts clapping at herself "No medicine! Yeah, Leenie!"

"Honey, this is not how we stop medicine."

Ready for this embarrassing little number? .... She starts clapping and singing, "Stop medicine, make dirt."


Who teaches their precious little two year old daughter to call [daisies] dirt? 
I will give you one clue-- it wasn't me.

What started our strides toward success was an extended period of time without gardening. Medicine, um, directly planted was the solution.... It was a "mountain of [daisies]" per her father. And thus, we now have "mountain" this and "mountain" that.... we even have mountain French Fries and mountains of laundry (we always have mountains of laundry).

Three days and we have had as many accidents. It might be time to toss this Cialis way of thinking out the window.

1 comment:

Family Snodgrass said...

Schedule! Schedule! Schedule! But you knew I'd be on that side, didn't you?