On your chair 

I’m trying to crack down on my son walking around the house with food. I wouldn’t mind so much if he didn’t just drop the scraps when he was finished but he does. Being a typical four year old boy he is pushing the boundaries. Being the typical sleep deprived, passionate, beautiful mess that is a mother of three young children, I’m not exactly great with words sometimes. Not that it would make any difference. 

I have tried explaining it to him many times in the past. 

“Mate, you can’t walk around with apples, that’s gross…. Please don’t leave your core in the lounge room…. Do you want ants? That’s how you can’t ants… No, hiding under the coffee table doesn’t make the problem go away… No, don’t put it in the cupboard next to the bin, but it in the bin.” He couldn’t care less. He’s four. What’s in it for him? 

So I’ve resorted to treating him like a chair. 

Everytime I notice he’s helped himself to an apple I approach him, say his name and point to the kitchen table, “on your chair.” 

He doesn’t like this, of course, but I’m finding consistency does work in wearing him down. If it doesn’t wear me down first. 

Today’s shenanigans went to a new level. 

Me: “William, on your chair.” William: “stop saying that.” Me: “then get on your chair.” William pokes his tongue out at me and licks the entire Apple* “I’m not eating I’m only licking it.” Me: THEN LICK IT ON YOUR CHAIR.” 

As a side note, how pathetic is it that I have had to continually argue with autocorrect to let me type Apple with a lower case “a” so many times that by the end of this post it has refused to let me change it at all. It was a fruit long before computers were invented ding dong heads. Grrrr. Even before there were chairs. 


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