I am forever telling Mr. Husband to quit arguing with the Toddler. I understand how it is that he ends up in verbal sparring matches with her--she is, in many ways, a miniature version of me. Given that the man seldom manages to win a battle with me, it only makes sense that he would turn to my mini me for a little entry level competition. But really, arguing with a two-year old is about as pointless as trying to convince a wall that it should move over a a foot or two.
Tonight, however, I found myself being the goober who felt the need to try to move walls with the power of the spoken word.
Alexis is full-on in that stage where kids do whatever they can to avoid going to bed. Every night she asks for umpteen drinks of water, she discovers six or seven babies that need to be in her bed so that her little slumber party will be complete, and she is forever dragging out the reading portion of the goodnight festivities. I always declare early in the proceedings how many books we will be reading, and count down as we go through them. Tonight needed to be a Rapid Fire Tuck-In, so I went with one book as the magical number.
"Alexis, we get to read one book tonight," I warned her.
"No, not one book."
"Yes, we are reading one book," I said.
"One," she started.
"Yes," I interjected.
"Two. Three. Four. Five."
"No, we are reading one book," I replied.
"We read six books," Alexis said.
"No, one."
"Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven."
"Why do you keep upping the number of books we're reading?" I asked.
"Reading nine books."
"Alexis, we are reading one book."
"No, we're not," she said.
"One."
"No. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten."
"I'm glad you know how to count, but we're only reading one book," I said.
"We read more."
This went on for over ten minutes, with her expectations continually rising.
I don't know how long it took me to realize it, too long for certain, but in the time I spent arguing with the Toddler, I could have read pretty much every book in this house.
I am such a goober.
