My 2 year old is not the boss of me. My 2 year old is not the boss of me. My 2 year old is not the boss of me.
S is screaming right now because her doughnut is in 2 pieces. Doughnut! I know! We don't eat the doughnuts around here very much. You'd think the doughnut existing on her plate would trump the fact that it dare split in 2, but sadly that's not the case.
If anyone were to walk by my window right now they may wonder, why is that mean mean lady typing while her 2 year old boss is writhing and screaming on the floor? Clearly very unhappy about what certainly must be extremely important? Why isn't she caring for that poor tortured child?
I have gone down the route of yes, I understand. How frustrating it must be for you that you have two pieces of doughnut. Do you want to talk about it? Yes, kick the floor. Let it out. But try not to eat the doughnut while your lying down crying.
This is the part where I feel like a trained monkey. When I get up, go to her- manage to pick her up through the flailing, and sing twinkle twinkle little star about 20 times. Then give her the other half of the doughnut that I had saved.
The joke is on S. Her doughnut was broken to begin with.