Apparently my husband has yet to realize that we have a 2-year-old. You know, a little old lady with 10,000 opinions stuck in the body of a tiny toddler. And he has yet to learn how to deal with our little senior citizen the way most parents do.
I don't mean BIG HUGE LIES. But I mean ones that get her to eat her food, not swallow your ice cream sandwich, and throw as few tantrums as possible.
Take for example when he's feeding her. She's fairly picky - somedays she'll eat chicken. The next day, she'll spit it out. But YOU NEVER TELL HER IT'S CHICKEN. You just tell her it's food or bites or dinner, unlike the husband whom when saying it's chicken really says, "eat this chewy piece of meat that your mother heated up too much and is now like rubber."
Right. Like she's going to eat that.
But covered in baked bean sauce and told that it's beans she will. So long as the word "chicken" does not leave your lips.
Or when he goes out to meet up with friends while I'm putting her to bed, instead of just saying "good night" he says "Bye, see you in a few hours." Um. HELLO. Not necessary for mommy to have to deal with screaming toddler. Just say GOOD NIGHT. And then go.
Tonight I had to intervene because he decided to tell her that he needed to go take medicine. And when you say you need something, then she needs it to. (DUH?) And as he went to prepare to give her one drop of Dimetapp in a large cup of water (the honest man that he is), I ran in and said "How about giving her a spoonful of juice?"
And so, she thought it was the best tasting medicine ever and we didn't have to deal with any tantrums.
Hopefully he'll catch on soon. Otherwise, anytime he goes anywhere, I'm going to tell her he's going to get ice cream.
That should teach him.