…Oh yes it is…
OMG SRSLY. YOU GUYS. One of the reasons I am unable to post much these days is because Teh Drama Llama is in da house.
Welcome to Three.
She busts down into dramatic sobbing over everything — EV. RY. THING. — so that if I am not dealing with the crying, I am redirecting the crying, and if I am not redirecting the crying, I am cleaning up after the crying. It takes up SO MUCH MORE OF MY DAY than I ever thought possible.
I know this is what three year olds do. We are at the part of the show where Emotions Are Hard, But They Are Good And They Are Healthy. So I try to be understanding and keep my cool and just go with the flow. One the one hand, it’s all OMG STOP ALREADY YOU WEENIE. On the other, perhaps there is an Oscar and some $20-mil movie paycheques in this kid’s future.
When BDH is home, and Teh Llama is getting her Drama on, we just look at each other and say, “Three”. And sigh. It’s good to have back up.
But during the day, and especially this week when she is home all day every day because of March Break, I have to rely a little more on my wits, and try to avoid any meetings with Teh Llama that might be of a Dramatic nature.
It’s a challenge, though. It’s hard to predict what will devolve into The Crying Game on any given day. I think we have it narrowed down to “anything that stops the fun”. A instruction to come in from playing, or get ready for bed, or transitioning from a Very Fun Thing to a Less Fun Thing… and the waterworks begin.
Today was the perfect example. It was sunny and going up to 15 degrees today, so after bath and hair this morning, I gave in to the endless entreaties from That Girl to blow bubbles, and outside we went. However, it was pretty windy and still pretty cool, which is not the best for bubbles, so after about 15 minutes, I thought it would be better to go in.
So, in my head, I realized there would be a need for a Very Fun Thing to replace the Fun Thing we were currently doing. Or, at least, an Equally Fun Thing. I went through all the indoor things Stinkerbelle enjoys.
Using the mixer? Tears began.
Having cocoa? More tears.
Okay, so then I got a brainwave. “Let’s go get your bicycle and ride it!” Now, here I thought I was being clever. First of all, I thought I was replacing the Fun Thing (bubbles) with a Very Fun Thing (bicycle) — and I was. The problem?
I did not realize that riding her bicycle outside was going be approaching the pinnacle of Fun Things A Three Year Old Can Do. And that fact escaped me until about halfway through her ride, when I noticed that one of the back wheels on her bike was wobbly and squeaking.
I encouraged her to head for home, but she was not having any of it. On she rode, around the block, which — I have mentioned before — means riding at one point up a very steep hill. On she pedalled until we neared our house once again.
At that point, I thought that it was close enough to lunchtime to call time, and also that the bike wheel was wobbly enough that perhaps I should get BDH to have a look at it when he got home. So I told Stinkerbelle it was time to go in.
She began the high-pitched, sound-only-dogs-can-hear whine that is the precursor to a good long wailing cry.
I marshalled her inside.
The crying began in earnest.
I took the bike and put it in the garage.
The crying became the choking, uncontrollable sobs of one whose heart was irretrievably broken.
I tried to console her, and I wiped her tears. I explained what I could to her. I ignored her.
I made lunch.
Every 5 minutes or so, she would come back into the kitchen, and begin blubbering again about her bicycle.
This went on, from a quarter to noon until naptime, where, mercifully, the tune changed from “no bicycle” to “no nap”. And then picked up again the instant her eyes snapped open and she saw me after naptime. (Fortunately naptime was quiet, wherein she talked in her sleep about — WAIT FOR IT — bubbles.)
As suppertime neared, I couldn’t take it anymore, and ushered her outside for more bubbles and to run around the front yard until she tired herself out. A reprieve from the Requiem for a Bicycle at last!
Until the bubble stuff ran out and it was too cold to stay out any longer and we had to come inside.
Daddy was not spared the Tales of Bicycle Woe. However, he dealt with it far more practically. After about two minutes of hearing the Song of the Broken Bicycle Wheel, he went out into the garage and shut the door. Several WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!s later, and he returned The Conquering Hero. The bike wheel was fixed. Ish.
We got a break from the Ballad of the Exiled Bicycle for most of supper, thank dog. Until she asked if she could get down from the table and ride her no-longer-broken bicycle, and we said no, it was time for bed.
I think you can guess how that went.
At any rate, BDH is off to soccer, Stinkerbelle is tucked up in bed, and I have a few blissful moments of complete solitude to call my own. I am not sure what I will do. But you can bet your sweet bippy I won’t be riding the exercise bike tonight.
Come to think of it, I won’t be watching any dramas on TV, either.