timing out

So I was sitting on the couch with my laptop working (whatever, blogging) when I peer over to M's table and notice she'd thrown her crackers on the floor. So I said dude, pick those up right now. And she said me no want to so I replied ok, let's show your daddy. Daddy, come here. So J walks in the room and said what is it you want me to do? To which I replied I feel like being one of those women, you know, the 'wait till your father gets home' sort of chick, the kind that puts the fear of god in her children by ensuring the wrath of their father is coming. So J, ever wrathful, said M pick that crap up, and turns around and walks off.

All the while, M is joyously smashing them into the carpet. J goes back into the kitchen to finish cooking dinner, and I am still firmly lodged on the couch. After a few minutes he asks from the other room is she cleaning it up? And I look over. Negative.

So he says, you need to give her a time out. Followed by the subtle You never give her time outs.

Whatever, friend. I just don't like time outs. In fact, I'd prefer to never give another time out. They are so punative, time outs. They bore me. Time outs are boring. Chew on that, daddy-o.

So I said you challenging me to throw down the time out gauntlet? I can give her a time out any day of the week, my friend. I just choose not to. Then do it, he says. Game on, dude.

Let's not forget M is listening to this whole exchange while continuing to smash crackers.

And I'd like to state for the record I am not usually this lazy.

So I look over at M, who is now on the floor on all fours mid smash and I say M. This is so not cool. Pick up the crackers. And she says It's ok mommy, I go time out. And gets up and goes to her room. I am cracking up. And I am still on the couch. I decide our carpet sucks anyways.

J looks around the corner and says where is she? She's gone to time out, friend. I am the queen of the time out, so put that in your pipe and smoke it. I can give time outs all day long.

A few minutes later M wanders back out. Time out over, Mommy? Yes, baby. Good girl.

I like it this strategy. Now if I can only train M to feed me the crackers instead of smashing them into the floor, life would be money.