your monday morning hattie joy

I had just said, "have you seen Hattie in a while? She's never this quiet." When she came down Rory said quietly to me, "I'll discipline, you get the camera." Thankfully this picture was taken back in January. But I kept the picture for a day like today...

Hattie is so much work these days. She is nonstop, and we are exhausted. Today she got up way earlier than usual and was a hot mess because of it. She ate three breakfasts and then got in trouble because she still wanted rice krispies. Things are about to get a little rough around here as boundaries are put down and enforced. It will be worth it, but sometimes you just have to step back and make a plan to help shape the character and obedience of your child.

At 9:30 today I called my sister who is home with her girls for a snow day (congrats, girls!). Hattie was noisy and frustrated in the background the entire conversation so at the very end I said, "Alright, well, I'll load Hattie up and push her sled in your direction. Be looking for her in about an hour. Just grab her when she whips past your window." We laughed and Annika said she really did wish she could take Hattie for the day. I hung up and Ivar commented that he didn't like me saying I would do something like that. So I apologized to him.

A bit later Hattie came back in the room with the black mop bucket on her shoulder. Inside the bucket she had placed a bunch of butter knives, a big serving spoon and a sippy cup. She said, "Bye, bye, Mama." I asked her where she was going and she said, "Onkuh! Shshshshed." (which means Annika and Jedd). She had heard me and had packed up, ready to hop on her sled.

I picked her up and told her she wasn't really going there and that I wouldn't really send her away on a sled. I told her I was glad we could spend the day together and that I love being her mom.

We walked into the kitchen and then I saw the new box of Rice Krispies dumped all over a chair that had been pushed to the counter so she could reach the cereal. Krispies were dumped in a trail from the chair to the laundry room and she looked at me and shook her head and agreed, "No, no, no."