Thing is, she's getting smarter too. And throughout the day, I find myself getting played a little bit. If I'm putting her to bed, she waits till we read our 3 books then right at the last minute, calls for daddy to come and do the honors. She will go and stand in the hallway and just yell his name till he comes. Of course, if it's Jason that does the jammification process and reads books, then she's wanting me.
Oh gosh, speaking of--I gotta tell y'all what happened yesterday. We got home from church and I went straight into her room to put her down for a nap. We had something on in the afternoon so I was trying to get her down in a hurry. Of course she wanted Jason to come do it.
I called for Jason to come--he'd gone up to our bedroom to change clothes. He came to Grace's room with no shirt on. When he walked in, she just stared at him and started saying, "Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh." (This is what all dudes hope the ladies will say, right guys?) I mean, she was really bothered that he didn't have his shirt on--she just stared at him. I started doing that silent-laughter-shoulder-shaking thing. I tried to hand her to Jason, but she clung to me. She was just not having this whole shirtless thing. Good news, though--now every time Jason changes clothes now, I can just go, "Uh-oh! Uh-oh!"
Anyway, I've realized that I've been a little more lax with Grace, as far as setting boundaries and discipline goes. We are working on teaching her to say "please" and not rewarding her for tantruming. But I let a lot more things go than I used to. I guess I just find it so funny when she points at Nate and screams for him to vacate the rocking chair. (He does it right away, whereas he never would for Ava.) Or when she walks up to me and silently holds her hand out for me to give her my partially-eaten apple, certain that she will be obeyed. Or when she tells one of us off--in total gibberish language, but her tone! You just know that she is ripping you to shreds, if you could only understand it.
She is a fuzzy, pink, attack bear. They're the most dangerous kind.
The truth is, it makes me laugh. (Well, when I'm not frustrated already.) She is like this tiny, blonde dictator with light-up sneakers. The chutzpah! She has no doubt of her place in the universe and she will brook no opposition. But I know, I know. What's cute at 2 is utterly obnoxious at 4. This ain't my first rodeo. So, I know we have to start working on some of these behaviors.
Before we're all huddling under the kitchen table while she trashes the joint.