We had dinner with H's family last night and it reminded me of the time I horrified my brother in law (I shall call him the BIL) with my mad parenting skills. This is how it went...
Poor J hurt herself in one way or the other. Now I assure you, it was not a life threatening event, nor was a band-aid necessary. However, it brought her to tears and she clearly wanted me to heal her instantly.
As we all know, boo-boos just take time to stop hurting but when you are
3 years old (this was a few months ago, you see) you want the pain gone NOW.
So I thought quickly and confidently declared, "Oh that hurts, I know. I am sorry.
Just count to 15 and it should be better."
With a sniffles and all,she began, "1, 2, 3, 4......12, 13, 14, 16,.....23, 24, 25...and onto about 30."
The BIL looked at me to see if I was going to throw her a lifeline regarding the missing number 15,
which was clearly her goal. And did I??
I simply said, "Try again honey."
She began again, "1, 2, 3,.....14, 16,17..."
While she never did reach 15, which I clearly knew that she would skip, her boo-boo stopped hurting and she was distracted as time healed her wound.
We ended it all with a hug and a kiss and off she went to play.
I looked over at the BIL with a mischevious smirk.
The look he gave me...was it shock, disgust, or amazement??
I do not know.
All I do know is that there will be time work on her counting deficits.
Until then, desperate times...desperate measures.