It started with an innocent request to go to McDonald’s for dinner. I said no, because we’d been there the day before, causing C to melt down completely.
I let her wail for a moment. Some evenings she needs to cry for a moment to let all the stressors and angst of the day out of her system. But when she started kicking my seat I decided it was time to put a stop to the drama.
“Babe? You’ve just lost your desert privileges.” I kept my voice completely calm, letting the words sink in. “You can get them back if you change your attitude and become pleasant again. It’s up to you, you can keep screaming and stay grumpy without desert, or you can stop, cheer up, and have desert again.”
The kicking stopped, but a quick glance in the rear view mirror showed a still thunderous looking little four-year-old.
“So? What do you chose? Let me know when you’re ready.”
She mumbled something that I missed. I turned down the radio and asked her to repeat herself.
Her question rang through the quiet car loud and clear, laced with skepticism, making me snort back a laugh.
“What’s for desert?”
She’s definitely her daddy’s daughter – always knows the important questions to ask.