“My head is stronger,” my four year old says as she pushes her head against mine. I should point out that this is going on while I’m trying to strap her shoes for her. It doesn’t seem to matter to her that I’m assisting her. This is a power play.
The sad part is that her head is stronger. Not in the particular way that she is trying to show me. My neck muscles have had time to toughen up and I didn’t budge when she tried to head butt me to move my head. Reading over that it makes me seem dumb for not moving my head, but trust me when I say in the moment it made sense. I needed that “win” to get me through the day.
Her head is stronger in the way that matters. The way that makes her not back down, even when she is very very very wrong. In the way that makes her cry about the stuffed puppies ears not going down even though they have never been that way to begin with. The way that ends in my safety pinning the dogs ears down for her to take it to show in tell at school. In the way that makes her refuse to let me sing in the car even though I am totally on key. What? Well, OK. But she has no proof that I’m not on key. You are just assuming. You know what that does…
After this head strong exchange I really should have went back to bed. All the signs were there that it was going to be a rough one. Who gets headbutted in the first hour they are up in the morning? A person that needs to go back to bed, and maybe a billy goat. Those are the only two acceptable answers.
We took my six year old to school for the morning. This particular morning my four year old was going to miss her so much. Sure they were punching each other just minutes before? That means nothing. Her heart was breaking now.
I tried to get her in the car to go to her preschool. She was not having it. I picked her up and she cried. Fought and yelled. A truck came to park by us. I have my suspicions they were checking to see if I was taking her. I wanted to assure them that this was my spawn, otherwise I would have peeled out leaving her. This isn’t the first time that we have had concerned onlookers.
We finally get in the car and she wants to fight. The reason for the fight doesn’t matter. It just needs to be a fight. She doesn’t like that I turned to look at her. She doesn’t like that we are taking this way to get to preschool. Yadda, yadda.
Here is where I confess I sunk to a four year old level. I’m not proud of it. A Beyonce song came on the radio. My four year old daughter yelled that she didn’t like the song. I don’t want to lose my Beyhive membership, so she needs to cool it. I am at my wits end.
I left the song on, guys. I left the song on as revenge. I also may or may not have turned it up a notch to prove that I would prevail. I confess I didn’t really care about my Beyhive membership. I didn’t really like the song either, but I turned it up to sing anyway.
Guess my head is stronger today.