This weekend, on our way to Anaheim, CA, we stopped at a Target to get a replacement sip-cup for Mont because he chewed a gaping hole in the one he drinks milk from. Thinking they had the same colored one, I was disappointed as I looked through the rows, finding a slightly different combination (the lids are different colors from the main body). I grabbed the yellow one, thinking it would be fine.
Today proved that it was not going to be fine.
In an effort to get him to just drink from it already, I offered him a 'ding-ding' (which means 'special chocolate' in Mont language, as the 'special chocolate' resides in a tin trolley that his sweet aunt gave him for his birthday filled with 'special chocolate'; we've just kept it going), but told him that he first had to drink the milk.
When that ended with crying and screaming, I offered him to just drink milk from a cup. Still no go. By this time, we were both frustrated. He was really rearing now, getting mad and throwing himself on the floor. I didn't think my request was unreasonable, so I asked him, "do you want to go in a room by yourself?" This has worked on getting him to do as we ask on other occasions, wether it be pick up his toys, stop throwing his toys, or to be nicer. He continued with the tantrum, so I walked him to the bathroom, clicked on the light, and shut the door behind him.
Talking to him through the door, I still didn't get a "yes" when I asked him if he'd drink his milk, so I opened the door.
This is where I just felt my heart break in half.
He was standing there so small and sad; tears were streaming from his eyes down his red cheeks, and his nose was watering as well, all the while asking in his raspy, sad little voice, "ding-ding?? a ding-ding?" It was so pitiful and sweet and sad all at once. I grabbed a tissue, and got down on his level, hugging him and retelling him that he had to first drink his milk.
I wanted to give him a special chocolate, I did! And I told him so... then I thought, I might as well tell him, so I spoke my next thought out loud: "I want to Mont, but then you will have won... and I can't let you win this one, or you'll win the next one, and the next one." Yes, I felt dumb, but I felt mean even more.
It calmed down after a few more minutes of pleas and crying, telling him that he will get a ding-ding tomorrow, and that we were going to go upstairs (nearly had to pull him, even still) to brush his teeth and go to sleep. Which he did quite quickly; he was pretty dog-gone tired.
Well would ya look at that, it did work. I do feel a bit better having typed it out, but I'm still sad I couldn't just give him a piece. I almost did; more than once, even. But I did it. I pulled through as the tough one. He almost broke down my fortress of fortitude with that one sweetly sad look.
He's probably dreaming of ding-dings this very moment.
While this is a picture from last month, it reminded me of how he was standing when I opened the door.
Just picture a much, much sadder face. He just looked this teeny tiny standing there. My little sweetheart.














