So, let's talk about this chick.
Okay so here's my issue with The Sophster as of this very minute. Girlfriend has attitude. I know, I know. I've told you this before. But this time I mean it. I realllllllly mean it.
As a general rule Sophie has decided she cannot, indeed, WILL not agree with anything that is said. Conversations like the following take place on a fairly frequent basis. Observe.
Best Mother Ever (me): Sophie, I think you need a diaper change!
Tyrant Child (soph): No I not!
BME: Oh yes you do! Let's go change that diaper!
TC: NO I NOT! NO! NO! NO!
BME: Okay Sophie. I think you smell like roses and you can wear that diaper FOREVER.
TC: No I not. I stinky. Uckee diapee.
Then there's the classic, "I DO IT!"
BME: (seeing Sophie struggling to put on shoes, throwing herself on the floor and moaning) Sophie, can mommy help you with that?
TC: NO! I DO IT!
So, you see where I'm going with this. Girlfriend has attitude. I'll admit that at first it was cute to see her so determined and independent. Now? Not so much. And beginning with our failed potty-training attempt last month I realized something: She needs to be broken. I'm talking wild-stallion-learning-to-wear-a-saddle, broken. Richard Gere in Officer and a Gentleman, broken. She's going to learn who is boss around here, and it's not Tony Danza.
Granted, I have no plans to make her do push-ups in the mud while hosing her down. Not yet, anyway. But she's been learning the hard way for the past few weeks. Time-outs in the crib have been plentiful. Getting kicked out of the kitchen without finishing her meal after spitting has happened, thankfully, less often. Yesterday she wouldn't leave the park, so I left. I waved bye-bye and walked with the boys (who are broken, and who walked like the nice little cadets they are) to the car. She literally stood at the very edge of the playground - not a toe over the line - and screamed at me until she realized I WAS SERIOUSLY GETTING INTO THE CAR. At which point she booked it and ran toward me (note: she was running through a grassy field, not a parking lot...and I met her halfway).
But the good news is that I think we're making progress. Little by little she's figuring out what her brothers before her had to learn. Mommy is the boss. Daddy is the assistant boss (or, assistant TO the boss, I should say). But Mommy runs this place. If she plays her cards right she will get to have a say in LOTS of things. She'll get to make lots of choices and have a great little life.
And if she doesn't?
Well, let's just say I can think of a perfect spot in the backyard for some muddy push-ups.