I am making you a sandwich. This is a sandwich. I AM MAKING YOU A SANDWICH RIGHT NOW.
Don't open that drawer—you'll knock over the water glass. Don't. No. No. NO. NO!
It is not time to run around "with naked on." It is time. To. Eat. Dinner.
Listen to me, Ingrid. LISTEN.
These are not the worst things I could have said. I know, because the worst things I could have said were right there in my head, next in line. But really, my usual discipline style is somewhat more conversational.
I think it's fair to say we are all a little strung out. She is having a hard time, what with the rearrangement of her entire world and all. And I, despite a 9:00 bedtime and almost daily hour-long nap, am just a tad tired. And we are just not connecting with each other in the way we used to. Which is to say, the stuff I used to say to her often has no effect. Gah. Am going to have to learn to take even more deep breaths.
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I'm sure you'll adjust. The newborn period is tough on everyone. You sound like a saint compared to the stuff I hear people say in public to their kids--my own friends, even. Cut yourself some slack. :)
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