Sugar free

I left all the sugar-coating off of this post. Read on if you want, but be warned.
It's life as it really is at our house.

I'll admit it. We are at a stage of power struggles. I have to constantly re-evaluate and decide what battles are important to me and which ones I need to just let go. It's all about letting our little boy feel as much in control and involved in our activities as we can, but then remembering that he's only three. So some things are inherently not a good idea. 

Now add to that an extremely independent-spirited, persistent, stubborn, and curious boy, and inches quickly become miles in our world.

Like cooking. He pulls his chair up when I am in the kitchen, and tries to take a front row seat while I chop or stir or cook. Clearly there are limits--not a good idea to have fingers around knives or elbows close enough to bump hot pans. I have a small kitchen. With a dining room chair pulled up to the counter, it is tiny. I can't open the drawers, bottom cupboards or the refrigerator. I truly feel powerless to enforce any boundaries of where he can and can't be. If I am in the kitchen, he is there too. Nothing in the world is more exciting than being on top of whatever mom is doing in the kitchen. And that is where the power struggle is manifested. The point is that while we want to involve David as much as possible, it's also very hard to effectively do it.

Another example is yesterday at the grocery store. What better way to keep little hands from reaching for checkout-stand candy bars and gum than to ask for his help in putting the groceries on the conveyor belt? That was an inch. The help quickly faded, as he was trying to see what would happen if he could just get his fingers in that little crack where the conveyor belt disappeared. You know, the part that would cut them off if he succeeded? There was his mile. First I asked him sweetly to not touch. Then I explained that it could hurt his hand.  Then I firmly removed his hand; then I tried to hold it with mine and put on my "I mean business" voice. Then I moved the cart forward so he couldn't reach it, as I tried to act like nothing abnormal was happening at checkstand four. But the reality is that there is no good place for a 3-year old to be in a checkout lane when he feels slighted. And the entire store knew that he was being stopped from doing something that he deemed "helpful." They also knew that I was engaging in a power struggle with my three-year old. By the time I got me and my groceries and my shattered nerves and my tantrum-ing boy out to the car, I really had no feeling of any success. Except that David can still count to 10 with his socks on.

I'm sure there are mothers (maybe fathers--do dads read blogs?) reading this who are thinking of "why don't you just . . ." thoughts based on the skeletal facts I've just shared. And really, I'm always looking for new ideas. But please don't be surprised if I tell you that we've already tried that idea. We really want to nurture David's independence--because it's who he is, and it's here to stay no matter what we do. We really want him to hear "yes" and encouragement a lot more than he hears "no" or discouragement. We also really want him to show up at his 4th, 5th, 10th, 15th, and even 20th birthday parties with all of his fingers and toes. Without any major burns or scars would be even better.