Moment of Empathy

My son Drake is recently three, and so far proving all those moms right who told me that three is far more difficult than two. My frustration is at an all-time high as he doesn’t listen and flouts my quiet, reasonable, polite requests to do basic things like get dressed.

Last night at bathtime, after I’d asked him several times to get in the bathtub, he continued to ignore me. I told him I was going to count to five, and if he wasn’t in the tub at five, I was going to lift him in by force. I counted to five, he hadn’t moved, I grabbed him, lifted him and plonked him in the tub, where he began to scream. I felt sad that the incident ended so badly, and I felt worse for him. He’s small, and at the mercy of grownups like me. Sure, he was being recalcitrant and ignoring me. But when I don’t want to do something, I try to reason my way out of it, plus I’m not usually physically forced by someone bigger than me. Yes, he’d been behaving badly, but I didn’t blame him for being outraged. It’s gotta suck being small, a lot of the time.

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