The baby doesn’t listen to anything I say. It would appear that her brother rules the roost.
I say, “No running!” and she only runs faster. If her brother tells her not to, she will (usually) stop dead in her tracks.
I say something like, “Miss? Can you please put that wrapper in the garbage?” and she just wanders away from me, like she’s deaf or something.
I repeat: “Ava Scarlett? You need to put that wrapper in the garbage where it belongs, please.” She walks away, shaking her head saying, “Ah… no t’ank you, mummy.”
I say, “Madame! Come back here!!” Nothing. Of course.
Oliver calmly looks up from his crayoning, and says, “Ava Scarlett, you see that wrapper from the chocolate you had before? Well, you have to put it in the garbage where it belongs, so mummy will give you MORE chocolate next time, and anyway, Santa is watching, and he won’t bring you any presents if you’re a naughty girl, so could you please just put it in the garbage now, and don’t antagonize mummy, because anyway, we don’t want her to be cross.” (Yes, this is exactly what he said. I am amazed.)
She blinks at him twice.
Then she walks back over to the table, picks up the crumpled piece of cellophane, and says, “O-tay, Al-lay…” and promptly deposits the debris into the trash can under the sink.
I take a deep breath and pretend not to be offended that I clearly have no authority here. Le sigh.
And then I get a great idea.
“Oliver? Do you think you could take your sister to the potty and explain how it works to her? I think she’d like your company. Maybe you can read her a book too?” He can’t exactly read yet, but he’s heard the stories a million times… pick your book.
“Okay,” he breathes, putting his crayons down. “C’mon, Ava. Let’s try to have a pee-pee on the potty, okay?”
“O-tay, Al-lay.” She follows him blindly into the bathroom.
It takes all of my restraint not to interfere. I overhear him explaining “being a big girl” to her. “And you know what else? Maybe we can make a chart, and you can get stickers, and if you do a REALLY good job, mummy will give you some marshmallows or something. You like marshmallows! But, you have to have a pee-pee first. That’s just how it goes, you know. Just sit right here…”
I saw him take a train picture book in the bathroom. I hear him asking her which diesel she likes better – the red or the yellow? They chat and giggle. I get the camera.
And this is what I saw…
She didn’t make a pee-pee, but Oliver assured her that it was okay, and that it’s important that she tried. That they will try again a little later. Can you imagine?!
Oh my lord, sometimes I just want to EAT them… freaking adorable is what they are. (Though sometimes I just want to roast them, really.)
I’m so pleased and thankful that my boy is such a good little egg… or at least seems to be. For the most part, he is very kind to his sister. And I believe he has more patience than I have to spare at any given moment in the day, so perhaps that’s why she listens to him and not me. She thinks she’s his twin. She wants to do everything he does. I’m thrilled that he’s so polite, because she is following suit… she says everything the way he says it. It’s making the job a little bit easier.
Yes, I hereby declare that Oliver is in charge. My work here is done.
Please pass the wine.
G.G.
