Does anyone live with a mini dictator in the guise of a toddler? As much as I like to think of myself as running a pretty tight ship with clear boundaries, I often feel overthrown by my two tiny tyrants. My three year old twins can be somewhat demanding as I’m sure most children of this age are. However what often tips me over the edge, is them rejecting Daddy.
Breakfast time is the prime example. I have no complaints with the amount they eat at this mealtime. In fact, if you were to watch you’d think they were squirrelling away for winter. Often they consume toast, porridge, cereal and a yoghurt on top of a glass of milk. It is the many, and I mean many, preferences they have developed about how this meal should be eaten.
I like routine but maybe I’ve created a pair of monsters with OCD tendencies. I get that three year olds like to be independent but heaven help you if you open the yoghurt lid from the wrong corner or give them the yellow spoon when it’s their turn for the orange. Thinking about it now, I wonder why I let them get away with all these demands. The easy answer is that, in the morning, the last thing I want to do is start they day with a full on meltdown. So I placate them.
Before they even ask, I’m prepared. I’m ready to prevent the tears. I know Jess likes porridge in the big bowl. I know Emily like to hold the milk as I pour it into her cup. I know that the cereal cupboard door needs to be open so they can see the selection. The problem is that the tiny details that make the morning run smoothly change and poor Daddy just can’t keep up.
If only many hands made light work
You’d think with two adults, the morning would be a breeze but it just doesn’t work like that. Daddy inevitably gets it wrong. Even if he does get it right, it still isn’t good enough. ‘No! Mummy do it’, are the cries if he should even attempt to help put on a bib. If this was contained only to breakfast, it wouldn’t be too bad but it happens constantly.
Daddy has to have pretty thick skin. They tell him they don’t love him. Even though it’s obviously not true, that’s got to hurt. He makes them fly on his feet, takes them to the park and plays Mario Kart while they hold disconnected controllers. They really do love their Daddy. If they’d just let him help put on their shoes, they’d find out he is quite capable.
It would make Mummy happy too. Rejecting Daddy always seems to happen when we’re in a hurry. Instead of being able to share all that comes with getting twins out the door, I end up trying to sort both and barking jobs at Daddy. This doesn’t make for a calm start to any outing. I’m really hoping this is just a phase that they’ll grow out of and quickly.
It can’t be just me this happens too. What do your little ones refuse to let Daddy do?