Lux et umbra vicissum…

I thought I had it made this morning. When we got to church and I went in with the four littlest to drop them off at their classes, the four year old went in perfectly happily. “Wow!” I thought. “No fireworks this morning, no having to coerce or bribe her… progress!”

HA!

In hindsight, I’m surprised they didn’t page me. Maybe it’s because they know we’re still relatively new to the church and wanted us to have a good experience. Whatever the reason, I didn’t find out that anything was wrong until I went to pick her up.

It’s never good when the worker behind the desk looks at your child’s name and say, “Oh,” in that sort of tone. You know, the one that’s full of weighty meaning. The “Oh,” was then followed by a carefully phrased, “She had a hard time this morning.” Grrrr. I think the disappointment at finding out that this was not, in fact, our turning point Sunday made me all the madder. I stood there listening as she and another teacher explained to me that my child had insisted on using a bathroom other than the one normally available to her class, and on returning from the bathroom she had refused to enter the classroom, cried loudly for her sister to come into the hall, too, threw a fit when they said she couldn’t stay in the hall and her sister wasn’t coming out, and had to be physically placed, screaming and kicking, into the room and the door closed behind her at which point she stood near the door and cried loudly for the rest of the time.

At this point, someone reading this is thinking, “Awwww… poor little thing! She’s afraid to be away from her mommy!” Well, let me tell you something. This child could out-stubborn five mules, and her fits have more to do with getting her way (being in control, if you please) than they do with staying with me specifically. And she’s not at all cute when she’s doing her starfish impression, grabbing both sides of the door frame, screaming her little head off, refusing to enter a room.

Darling child.

Well, when I was getting her, she decided she wanted to do a craft like her sister’s. She asked if we had the things to do it at home, and I told her (not entirely calmly) that no, she couldn’t do the craft at home. Sunday school was where they did the craft, and if she refused to do it with her class she wasn’t getting a chance to do it at home. This sent her into tears, of course, but not nearly as much as the spanking she got when we got home.

I held her and talked to her after her spanking, and at some point I asked her if it was worth it. I’m stubborn, too, and sometimes I really have to think about whether or not a thing I’m holding onto is worth the pain I’ll get for it in the end. She agreed that it wasn’t.

Now let’s see if she remembers.