Acceptance.

Acceptance is a difficult concept for many adults to grasp, even harder for a two year old to comprehend. So imagine how challenging it was for me this afternoon when I had to explain to Ryan why it was important for him to have a time out when he pushed his little sister down.

"But Miss Megan, I don't want a time out, I don't want to!"
   "I know you don't, I'm sorry sweetie but you pushed Riley down and that was not nice so you have to."
"But I don't want to." (Said with gasps of breath and many tears)
   "I'm sorry but you know you're not supposed to push, therefore you have to do a time out."
"But I'm not pushing her now."
   "Yes, but you are argueing with me now, and you pushed her down once already so you need a time out."
"But I don't want to."
   "Well you have to, please go stand in the corner and I'll set the timer."
"But Miss Megan I don't want to."
   "You have to Ryan, please just cooperate."
"But why do I have to?????"
   "Because I said so, and because when you push someone that's what happens, you get time outs."

(notice the bold section: even more of a reminder I am turning into my mom. post number one)

Acceptance.


After forty-five minutes of explaning to Ryan the neccessity of a time out, and the actual two minute time out, we returned to the play room and created the craft I had promised on the car ride home from playgroup.

I have always enjoyed doing creative things and using my imagination, and making things. As a little girl I would always enjoy making home made Christmas ornaments. Growing up, my mom would put every single home made ornament on the tree. I was so proud each Christmas to see something I made on our tree. So, I thought Ryan, being the imaginitive little boy he is would enjoy it as well. I put the kiddos hand prints on a small piece of white paper, ryan colored with green crayon, then we wrote their names on them and used yarn to tie a bow with them and hung them on the tree. Adorable, home made crafts are the best. I personally think it's what makes a house, a home. Not to mention, they're good memories for the future. Ten years from now they can hold their hands up to those hand prints to see how much they've grown. As a growing child I enjoyed seeing the marks on the wall of my height slowly getting taller. Now the only measuring I enjoy is when my pant size gets smaller.

Oh how things change.

Good night!