I'll need to look what I wrote about the girls at this age, because each time the constant questioning begins, I am unprepared. That's what Finwe does not--constant questioning. Why? What is that? Why? Are you going to do that? Why? What is that? Oh, I gotta go potty!
Not only does he ask, he repeats the same question multiple times even if you answer him. It takes patience to deal with it. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I don't have much patience. I can summon it for trips and the like, but for every day? Not so good at that.
On our way home from the baseball park on Thursday, Phill and I were attempting to navigate our way home without a map. We had an idea. You know what it's like: the girls talking about this that and the other thing, Phill and I discussing the traffic and which road to take, and Finwe asking the same question. He's on the third repetition. I answered the question the first time and the second time. As he asks me why baseball players wear shoes I snap.
"All of you need to just be quiet so I can figure out how to get home. I want to hear no more words from any of you, which includes you, Finwe! Stop asking me questions. GOT IT!"
I yelled. I regretted it instantly. I apologized once we knew where we were and I no longer felt the stress of getting all five of us on the correct road so we could make the grocery store before the closing time. (24 hour grocery stores don't exist here, as far as I know, at least not where we live).
"Mommy," Finwe squeaked, "you made me upset."
"Sorry, Finwe. You made me upset, too, by asking the same question again and again. Once is enough, Sweetie. Mommy just doesn't have the patience for anything more."
Patience for hire. The best reason for pre-school teachers. Those three hours might not seem like much, but I need them. Too bad that it's summer right as Finwe has reached the height of who, what, where, why.
No comments:
Post a Comment