My own little dictator

It was bad enough when she was an infant. Now she has the power of words behind her demands.

Put headband on! Ruby put headband on! Now mama put it on! Take socks off! Sing goat song! Sing doeadeer song! Sing twinkle song! Sing tree song! Sing turtle song! (It turns out that the last two songs are one-- The Twelve Days of Christmas) Ruby hold it! Ruby step stool! Ruby talka grandpa! Papa hold you! (meaning "me"-- she doesn't have the pronouns down yet) Mama hold you! Papa use it! Ruby do it now! Ruby cook! Cookie cookie cookie! Watch blue monster TV! Mama hoodie on! Mama glasses on! Mama blanket downstairs!

And all those exclamation points are there for a reason.

I feel like all day long I'm either wearily obeying her shrill demands or I'm whining (yes, that makes two of us), "no I don't want to...". When I'm being a good mom, I tell her to be polite and say "please" and then whine that I don't want to do what she says. I always thought of myself as a very unsentimental and pragmatic person, and difficult to manipulate. And I tell myself this as I trot over to the kitchen to give her a second cookie.