2 and a half

Voicemails from your kids

Getting voicemails from my kids always makes me smile. Today Audrey left one to say thanks.

Why? Her 5th birthday arrives soon so she went out today on a special shopping excursion with Mommy. Her birthday wish? A special doll - an American Girl Doll to be specific - that's she's been talking about for a while now.

This is no ordinary doll, I learned. She has an 'official' name and it's Rebecca (Audrey usually names her dolls and stuffed animals random, made-up names like Sakoreeena or Taboolaka or Nanoona - things along those lines) and the doll has a bio and even a high-chair to sit in. According to the company's website, Rebecca's profile reads:

As a girl growing up in New York City in 1914, Rebecca celebrates treasured traditions passed down through her Russian-Jewish family. With a little creativity, Rebecca learns how to stay true to her heart as she follows her dreams in the big city.

A little cliche, but hey, movies have been made based on worse themes than this one. In any case, Audrey is in love with her doll.

But back to voicemails. What distinguishes your kid's voicemails from all the others? One, if you use Google Voice, you get to read Google's text translation. Frankly, I think Audrey left a pretty clear message and that Google has a looong way to go toward making their voice recognition software better. This has always been the case in my experience using Google Voice (I'm digressing), but this 'translation' is egregious:

Hey. I love you and 16. You hang error. Well, No. Thank you, okay the dollars. 85 please HI. How are you shortly. Okay. I have a al at David, No I don't know if you're blue, bye. But anyway, hey. It's a marriage I had HI. Why don't we have, hey man.

Terrible, right? No wonder the service is free. But on second thought, maybe Google should leave it alone. It's almost more entertaining to read the gibberish. I'm currently trying to figure out how to hang an error. 

On a more serious note, the voicemail from Audrey today is special is because it immortalizes her voice and speech at a moment in time (you've got to wait a few seconds before she gets talking):

You're welcome, Audrey. Happy (early) birthday, and it's ok that you got a second outfit for your doll.

The daddy-daughter date

My little girl wants to go on a date with Daddy. What can I say? I'm thrilled!

We've been talking about it for weeks and just haven't been able to get it scheduled (my fault, of course - her schedule is wide open and mine isn't, and she's been patiently waiting for me). She's very curious about what we'll do and where we'll go, and has lots of suggestions. First it was dinner and dancing and then it was dinner and a movie (she has obviously figured out what a date is) and then tonight it was... Michael's. As in the craft store. 

Michael's? For a moment I was stumped but then realized that's perfect. I couldn't have come up with a more genious idea myself.

Audrey loves arts and crafts, and today her preschool friend Eve told her she can get lots of "jewels" (a.k.a. colorful beads and other sparkly objects) from a store called Michael's so that she can make lots of great artwork. Now that Audrey has discovered an arts and crafts paradise (she had lots of inquiries this evening about whether I'd heard of Michael's, whether I'd been there, and what it was like), she is dying to go to there for the Daddy-Daughter date. Michael's + dinner, that is.

She wouldn't let me forget about dinner, and she wants to go to her favorite - Ted's Montanta Grill. Why Ted's? Two things. Grilled cheese, and these waxy twisty bendy colored stix they give to kids to make mini sculptures out of. Ok, I like to make sculptures out of them too. And if they didn't make your fingers so waxy I'd like them even more. But I also like the menu - good burgers.

For a moment I was concerned Michael's would close before dinner was over but I checked online and Michael's is open until 9pm Mon-Sat, so we're good. Dinner around 6:30 and Michael's around 7:30 should work fine.

How did this all come about? Here's how:

Audrey's school held a Father-Daughter dance on Feb. 12 (yes, I know that was awhile ago - please cut me some slack) and we missed it. We were headed to the mountains to go skiing that Friday evening and Audrey, who never misses a beat, asked, "Daddy, when are we going to my school dance?" I realized in that moment that the dance was the following evening and we'd be away. My mind raced while Suzanne, Audrey and Grace looked on, awaiting a reply that at once needed to be clever, well thought out and provide a satisfying answer to Audrey's seemingly innocuous but rather difficult question.

I decided to take the straight-forward approach and admit I forgot, followed by a solution that would be even more fun and attractive. "It's tomorrow night, Audrey... I'm SO sorry we're going to miss it, and I just realized that, but Mommy and Daddy wanted to take you skiing. That's fun too, right? BUT, to make up for it, Daddy would like take you on a SPECIAL date that's just for me and you, and we can go wherever you'd like. How does that sound?"

She thought hard about what she had heard, as she always does. "Do you mean we can go on a date, just me and you, and NOT Grace, and we could go wherever we want, even maybe dancing, and maybe dinner too, and it would just be us, NOT Grace, just me and Daddy, and it can be a date?"

"Yep," I said.

She beamed - all was good and the issue was resolved. I told her she could think about where we'd go and what we'd do and I'd be open to whatever she wanted.

Now it's just a question of finding an evening that works, and I'm putting pressure on myself to get the ball rolling. Hopefully this week we'll get to go.

It will be a special evening and, as I think about it, other dads should do this too! Maybe there should even be a national Daddy-Daughter Date Day. What a great opportunity to enjoy a special evening with your little girl. Don't you think?

Beginning your day with Go Fish and ending it with Duck Duck Goose

Yesterday morning I awoke early and, when I was unable to fall back asleep, I meandered downstairs to make coffee and work for half an hour or so.

No sooner had I situated myself, though, than Audrey strolled in. When I said "good morning" I startled her - ostensibly she had the same idea I did which was to get some alone time. While the thought of my 3-year-old getting ready for the day by herself downstairs strikes me as odd, she clearly didn't expect to find me there.

"Daddy, what are you doing up?" she asked. 

"What are you doing up? It's early!" I responded. Normally she doesn't wake until 8am or so.

"Let's play Go Fish!" she announced, as if she had planned it all along.

Yes, exactly what I was conspiring to do with my morning... "Okay," I said, giving up hope for any sort of productive endeavor. "Let's play Go Fish."

We sat down at her small white table with lime green chairs and I dealt. Before I even finished doling out the cards, though, she started sandbagging. "I really don't remember how to play, Daddy." 

But as soon as she scooped her cards from the table she started laying them back down in piles that matched. I explained she needed four-of-a-kind to do that but that rule didn't sit well with her. "Here, see? I have two sharks! And two angel fish!" (The cards take a very literal approach to the game.) By the time she was done, I still held 7 cards while she showed 3.

"I guess it's your turn still," I said. "Ask me for a card." 

"Do you have a whale?"

I did, and gave her my whale card. Another match, and she was down to 2. Needless to say she won, and then convinced me to play again and won a second time. Beginning your day with a couple of victories isn't a bad way to start.

Fast-forward to bedtime - one of Audrey's favorite delay tactics is to insist on a good-natured game of Duck Duck Goose before she'll willingly go upstairs. Generally we insist that each person goes only once but she tends to prevail in that everyone goes at least twice.

"Duck. Duck. Watermelon. Apple. Horsie. Frog. Tree... Goose!" recited Audrey as she circled us, gave me a final tap on the head and then sprinted away. I get bored with it and make up alternatives to the word "duck" and Audrey has followed in my footsteps.

It was then my turn, and then Suzanne's, and then Audrey's and mine and Suzanne's again.

Thinking about this today, I appreciated that book-ending my day with Audrey's games put all the nonsense in the middle into a bit more perspective.

Audrey without a pacie?

Uttering those words once makes me want to utter them again, because I'm incredulous. Could it be true? Audrey has given up her pacie?

Repeating the phrase reminds me of the scene from 1984's Muppets Take Manhattan when Kermit and Miss Piggy are to be wed:

Bear 1: "Sombody's getting married?"

Bear 2: "Somebody's getting married? HEY, somebody's getting married!"

Bear 3: "Whoa, somebody's getting married!"

Pops: "Somebody's getting married??"

Lew Zealand: "Somebody's getting marrrieeeed!"

Group: "Somebody's getting married!" And so on. Until the entirely of the muppet world is chiming in.

I can hear it now:

Dad: "Audrey without a pacie?"

Mom: "Audrey without a pacie!"

Grace: "Audrey without a pacie??? HEY, don't take away MY pacie!"

Extended family: "Audrey without a paaaacieeee!!!"

Yes, the inveterate search for pacies in the middle of the night in our house may be at its end. The subtle but constant sucking noise may abate, and perhaps entirely if we can wean Grace off too. 

Advice to parents: Don't start your child on a pacie after age 2, which is what we permitted Audrey to do. And if your baby uses one, stop before age 2. It becomes more of an addiction versus a pacifier seemingly akin to (dare I say it?) a smoking habit. I don't think Audrey has an addictive personality, mind you - just a strong one.

How did this come about?

Yesterday Audrey announced unequivocally that she was giving up her pacie. Cold turkey, clean break, no detox required. I was taken back by her declaration since this was not to have occurred until her 4th birthday but she clearly wants to take the bull by the horns. I gave her a high-five and a hug and told her I was proud.

At bedtime,though, her resolve began to show some cracks. A great many of them, in fact. And no matter what we said to her, she cried.

"Do you want to read a book Audrey?" I asked. "A book?? Oh noooo, not a book... NO! I don't want to read a book," was her tearful reply. No distraction was good enough.

To her credit, she had overheard mommy saying that the pet dog belonging to her cousins needs to be euthanized due to illness - she picked up on that like a bloodhound and it considerably worsened her grief-stricken state.

But as time wore on she grew tired and fell asleep - without her pacie.

It may be the case that she hasn't done that in 2 years. Hard to say for sure, but I'd bet on it.

I'm proud of her. Tonight there will be tears again, but slightly less so. And tomorrow and the next day less again. Until her pacie is a distant memory.

Audrey without a pacie has a nice ring to it.

Ouch

That's Grace's favorite word. Bump her the wrong way, or pick her up too quickly, or even look at her the wrong way, and she'll look most offended and say, "Ooouuuch!" And her brow will be furrowed like you've never seen. You actually feel guilty.

Cinderella doll

Audrey: "Dad! I can't find my Cinderella doll!"

Daddy: "Ok. Where did you last have it?"

Audrey: "On the kitchen table. Can you check there?"

Daddy: "I don't see it. And it's not on the counter either."

Audrey: "Oh. Well, check in the corner behind my pink chair by the window where I put my other doll."

At that point, is there any question that she knew where Cinderella was all along?

What, dad?

Lately Audrey has taken to asking me, "What, dad?" when I say something to her. And then I'll repeat what I said and she'll still often respond, "What did you say?" 

The way she says the latter almost makes it sound like she heard something scandalous come out of my mouth.

So then I repeat what I said again, slowly and more loudly, often feeling like she *must* have heard me. Is she just messing with me? 

Some part of me thinks she is - you know, to test me a bit. We've all responded with, "What?" to someone, after hearing them well enough, although I'm not sure why.

But I also know she's only 3 and that I may use words she's less familiar with or speak too quickly or too softly or mumble. And this morning when she finally understood what I said she thought about it and then said, "I love you, dad!"

Messing with me or not, that's worth the back-and-forth.

30 degree burns

Audrey's got this thing lately with bandages and Band-Aids - every time she bumps or scratches or otherwise hurts herself (and this happens to toddlers alot) she needs to put one on her owie. Her latest trick was to use a whole bunch of Band-Aids to create a cast on her wrist since two of her friends at school have recently had casts. (I remember when it was cool to have a cast in school too.) She used the whole box for that so last night, when she wanted to put a bandage on her finger, there were none left. Naturally this made her mad so we improvised by using some Kleenex and medical tape. We even applied some Neosporin first to add some more seriousness to it all.

In this particular case it was more serious than in most - she had been helping in the kitchen and momentarily touched a hot pan, so she does have a very small blister on her finger. We were chatting last night about it and I asked her if she knew about when Mommy burned her hand.

"Oh YES," she said. "Grammy told me."

"What did she tell you?" I asked.

"WELL," she said, and then smacked her lips to prepare for her explanation. "When Mommy was little she was helping Grammy in the kitchen and she put her hand on the glass window of the oven. And it was really hot so it got stuck on there and Grammy had to yank her off. And THEN she had to have surgery."

"Ouch!" I said. Audrey had told the story correctly. As a parent I can't even imagine what that must have been like.

"Yeah," she muttered. "She got 30 degree burns."

Santa Closet, sticky window decorations and an angel

Audrey's and Grace's cousin Trever has re-named Santa, courtesy of the song "Santa Claus is coming to town." When you're 2, like Trever, I'd imagine that listening to adults speak or sing in English is kind of like an adult who knows just a bit of French listening to a fluent French-person speaking. Some words make sense and others don't and some just seem to blend together. Hence, Trever's "Santa Closet," as in "Santa Closet coming to town."

---

We have these window decorations that are sticky on both sides that Grace loves to play with. Imagine really pliable and somewhat gooey stained glass that, when arranged the right way on a window, are semi-transparent in the light and form a picture. But instead of sticking them on windows Grace crumples them up and tears them into pieces and creates a trail of them around the house. 

Occasionally if you're walking in bare feet or socks you'll step on a piece - the sensation is that you've just stepped on a slimy piece of banana or avocado but then you're relieved that it's something that can't make that sort of mess. 

She'll taunt us, too, by showing us that she's going to put a piece in her mouth and, when one of us gets up to take it from her, she'll sprint the other way as fast as her little legs can take her. And sometimes she's really sweet about it and will walk up and hand us a piece and say "dank-oo" which is her latest version of "thank you."

Yesterday she was reaching for a large yellow circle on the window through an opening in the wooden window shutter. But when she reached through the shutter closed a bit and her hand got stuck. She was surprisingly content about it - when I walked down the stairs and saw her stuck there she looked back at me and just waited. So I went over and saw that her hand was stuck and moved the shutter so she could extricate herself. She looked up at me with her big blue eyes and reached out to show me her prize and said, "dank-oo." She's such a sweetheart.

---

Audrey's school does a Christmas pageant each year and this year's took place last Tuesday. As I drove her to school that day I asked her what her role would be and she didn't know so I guess it just kind of comes together somehow. When I dropped her off I found out from her teacher that she could either be a shepherd or an angel. That was an easy one - angel of course.

After the pageant Suzanne called me at work to tell me I'd be cracking up when I watched the video that evening. Sure enough, when we put it on, Audrey was the stand-out. As all the other angels sat there patiently on stage, Audrey was on her feet blowing kisses to the audience. And she was waving too - like someone on a parade float waving to the crowd. THAT kind of waving. Now, baby Jesus was a real baby and did perfectly and I'm sure all eyes were on him for much of the time, but it was a close call between who the show-stealer was.

Waking up with someone staring at you

Why the title? Because that's what Audrey was doing this morning at 4:41am. Somehow in my slumber I felt the sensation of someone staring at me and, upon opening my eyes, I see Audrey's face inches from my own. Perhaps I awoke because she was breathing on me, but whatever the case it scared the sh*t out of me and I practically jumped out of the bed. 

Our bed is tall so Audrey doesn't have to crouch much for her head to be parallel to my own while I'm lying down. She can just saunter in and stand there. She could do the same to my wife too but here's why I think she doesn't - I'm on the side near the door and I sleep on my stomach with my head turned to the side which means I'm an easy target. My face is right there. Plus, being the push-over that I am, when she wanders in and asks, "Can I sleep in your bed now?" she knows I'm likely to say, "Fine," and plop her down in the middle of the bed between me and my wife.

But this was kind of freaky. I mean, normally I hear the pitter-patter of her footsteps on the hardwood in the hall when she gets out of her bed and wanders around. I hear pretty much everything. But last night I didn't hear a thing. Has she figured out how to walk more quietly down the hall? And how long had she been standing there? And is this going to happen again tonight?

Here's the play-by-play:

8:30pm - Audrey goes to bed in her own bedroom. We make sure she brushes her teeth, read her books and she falls asleep like normal.

11:00pm - I go to bed, tired and probably having had more red wine than I should have had on a work night.

11:17pm - Grace, who has a bad cold right now, wakes up and starts crying. We hear her loud and clear on the baby monitor. Daddy, who was just falling asleep but is not one to let his girls cry for long, gets out of bed, walks down the hall, takes Grace out of her crib, carries her downstairs wrapped in her blankey, makes her a warm bottle, feeds it to her while changing her, rocks her for a bit and then puts her back to bed.

11:30pm - I'm back in bed.

4:41am - I wake up, face-to-face with Audrey. I nearly have a heart attack.

"Audrey, what are you doing?" I finally ask. She replies, "Daddy, can I sleep in your bed?" I don't even bother to ask what the problem is with her bed but say, "Audrey, you scared the sh*t out of me!" Okay - I didn't use a four-letter word but otherwise that's what I said. She thought nothing of it so instead of belaboring the issue I lift her up, pull the covers over her and then roll over, hoping to fall back asleep.

4:45am - "Daddy?" says Audrey. "I lost my pacifier." I mumble, "Are you sure you don't have it?" knowing full well that she didn't and that the pacifier was probably sitting right smack on top of her pillow in her bed.

4:46am - I go to Audrey's room to retrieve her pacifier, which was sitting right smack on top of her pillow in her bed. Lost it was not.

4:47am - After placing the pacifier back in her mouth I suggest she close her eyes and get some more sleep. And she does.

7:00am - Grace announces that she is awake on the baby monitor and our day begins.

So now I'm left wondering whether this staring face-to-face thing is going to happen again tonight. Expecting it could, I advised Audrey before heading to work this morning that she should just announce herself or tap me on the shoulder or something so that I know she's there. "Can I tap you on your eye?" she asked, smiling. "No, don't tap me in the face. That's not going to help our situation. Just nudge my arm or something." "Can I yell really loud?" she said. "No, Audrey... Are you listening to me?" She nodded. But we'll see.

The psyche of a 3-year-old

Sometimes it's just time for bed.

Like when it's 8:45pm and Audrey hasn't gone to bed yet. A good mood turns to bad and all hell breaks loose. Tonight she got it into her head that she wanted a jelly bean before bed. One jelly bean. 

My wife and I told her she couldn't have sugar before bed and her protest lasted nearly 30 minutes. It wasn't a normal crying episode - it was more of a strained, chain-saw like mix between crying and yelling and she carried on until she began coughing and became hoarse.

Finally I told her that if she kept it up she'd be asked a question tomorrow by someone and when she opened her mouth she wouldn't be able to speak. Her voice would be lost. She said, "Really?" and I replied, "Yes, it has happened to many children and many adults." She told me she didn't know anyone who that has happened to and I assured her that she'd be the first one if she kept it up.

She quieted down right away. It was interesting to me that this rationale worked, if only because my other attempts crashed and burned in miraculous fashion. But because of this, within minutes she was cuddled next to me as I read her The Day It Rained Hearts, her new favorite book. She had again become the sweet little girl I know.

I have yet to figure out the psyche of a 3-year-old.

Watching a movie

As we are watching a movie on Saturday night:

Mommy: "After this is over it's time to go to bed, okay Audrey?"

Audrey: "Are you going also?"

Mommy: "No, it's late and it's time for you to get some sleep."

Audrey: "But you're not going?"

Mommy: "No, Mommy and Daddy need Mommy and Daddy time."

Audrey, after thinking for a moment: "But wait, I need Mommy and Daddy time too!"

Mommy and Daddy look at each other. She's pretty quick for a 3-year-old.

Mommy: "Okay, you can stay up for a little bit after..."

What else can you say?

Best friends

Audrey's friend Charlotte to Audrey:

"Audrey, you're my best friend!"

Audrey to Charlotte:

"Thank you!"

That may not be the desired response but that's good.

When Audrey is 25 (or older hopefully) and some guy says, "I love you," she'll be able to say, "Thank you," and walk away. 

Gazing at the clouds

When you're a parent you can rarely be prepared for the conversations that are coming. I am not going to do the following conversation justice but to my recollection this is what Audrey and I talked about yesterday evening as we were gazing at the clouds.

A: "Daddy, when will Jesus come down from the clouds?"

D: (surprised by the question) "I don't know. I don't think anyone really knows for sure."

A: "But how come no one knows?"

D: "Because we just don't. Jesus went up to the clouds many years ago."

A: "When?"

D: "Thousands of years ago. Before you, and even before mommy and daddy, were born."

A: "But where were we before we were born?" 

D: (this is where it got tougher) "We weren't born yet. We didn't exist."

A: "Where were we, Daddy?"

D: "You know how when mommy was pregnant with Gracie for 9 months and then Grace was born? But before all that Gracie wasn't here at all? The same was true for us. We just weren't here."

A: (again) "We weren't? Where were we then?"

D: (giving in to a bad explanation) "Well... okay. I guess if I think about it we were tiny little atoms, at least in some form. Kind of like little tiny dots. Does that make sense?"

A: "Mmm-hmmm. So can we go up to the clouds to see Jesus?" (the questions keep coming)

D: "Yes, eventually. When we get old. Remember how Gran passed away? He went up to the clouds. One day that will happen to us."

A: (putting it all into her own words) "So right now we're alive but when we get old we won't be alive and we'll be dead. So when we're 82 years old we can go up to the clouds to see Jesus?"

D: (smiling) "Something like that."

A: "Daddy - I think I see rabbit in that cloud up there!" 

From there the conversation got easier...

"Hi"

Tonight the following occurred:

Audrey: "Mommy, let me show you something magical!"

Mommy: "Okay."

Audrey takes a sticky note and sets it down on the leather ottoman. Taking a marker, she slowly writes the word "Hi" on the paper.

Audrey, showing what she's done to Mommy, "See?"

Mommy: "Yeaaay Audrey! Daddy, look!"

I look and sure enough - the word "Hi" is written there. We were stunned. 

Audrey's first written word.

Hottie

When I got married our reverend, during our ceremony, cited many of the reasons Suzanne had told her she wanted to marry me. Editorializing near the end, she said, "Not to mention that she thinks John is a 'hottie'." That was my last recollection of hearing someone use that word. That is, until I had the following conversation with Audrey the other day:

Audrey: "Daddy, Sage said I'm a hottie."

Daddy: "Oh really? And what did you say?"

Audrey: "That he's a hottie too."

Daddy: "I see. And what does 'hottie' mean, do you think?"

Audrey: "That I eat hot food. Like macaroni!"

Daddy is thankful that his 3-year-old remains so innocent.

Random stream of consciousness

A conversation between me and Audrey the other day on the phone:

D: "Hi Audrey, how are you?"

A: "I'm typing on the computer."

D: "What are you typing?"

A: "I'm typing for you. Will you come over for BBQ?"

D: "Sure. After work ok?"

A: "Will you come stay here all the time and in 5 days you could go home?"

D: "Home? That is my home. What day are we going to do BBQ? Thursday?"

A: "Yeah. I'll call you back."

D: "Why? I want to talk to you. What are you going to do today?"

A: "We're going to hang out. Will you stay here for BBQ and for the whole night?"

D: "Yes."

A: "K. Bye."

Negotiating with toddlers

In school I learned some of the basics of negotiating - anchoring, having a reservation price, understanding the bargaining range, focusing on interests vs positions, separating people from the problem, distributive vs integrative negotiation. etc. Each week we staged a negotiation and tried to implement some of these concepts. I think I did okay in the course but there was one tactic that I didn't use much. I call it the Audrey method although it's probably more apropos to call it the Toddler method, and it is used by stating something like the following:

"I really, really, REALLY want that!" 

Audrey, being 3, hasn't had the life experience or benefit of school to put the above concepts to use so she resorts to the one method she knows - (i) escalating emphasis on the word "really" followed by (ii) a tantrum if the outcome doesn't match her desires. Sometimes, "Please, please, PLEASE" gets added in there before the tantrum part.

Generally what she's getting after is sugar, staying up later or sleeping in mommy's and daddy's bed instead of her own. A recent variation on the sugar thing is throat lozenges (she calls them cough drops) - she got a taste of a cherry-flavored one the other day and now associates them with candy. Here's a conversation we had the other day to the best of my recollection:

A: (very politely) "Daddy, can I have a cough drop?"

D: "No, you may not. Cough drops are medicine and are only used when you are sick."

A: "But I really want a cough drop - my tummy hurts..."

D: "Your tummy hurts? All of a sudden? Where?"

A: "Right here, Daddy." (pointing)

D: "Why don't you lay down here on the couch? Cough drops aren't going to help your tummy."

A: "But I really want a cough drop!"

D: "Cough drops aren't for your tummy, they're for your throat or if you're coughing. Is your throat sore?"

A: (pauses, thinking) "Yeah..."

D: "So your throat is sore and your tummy hurts?"

A: "Yes Daddy."

D: "We'd better go to the doctor then - she'll need to take a look at you and give you some medicine and maybe a shot. Should we go now?"

A: "Noooo!" (shakes her head) "Can't I just have a cough drop?"

D: "No."

A: (suddenly, after more back and forth) "My tummy feels better Daddy. But I still need a cough drop."

D: "No, you're not sick."

A: "But I really really want one!" (face starts to crinkle up)

D: "Audrey, what did I just say?"

A: (ignoring the question) "I really really REALLY want one Daddy!"

D: "Let's focus on something else, okay?"

A: (tantrum ensues)

As you can see, in this scenario she has ignored each of the fundamental negotiation concepts I outlined above:

Anchoring - she might have started out by asking me for a bag of cough drops at first instead of just one (although I doubt that would have changed the outcome in this case).

Reservation price - she could have considered something worth less to her than a cough drop (e.g. some other perk or treat) that would have still been acceptable to her.  

Understanding the bargaining range - the cough drop was outside my range, and getting nothing was outside hers. Perhaps she should have considered asking for something like a mint or a Skittle - again, something at or above her Reservation price.

Separating people from the problem - impossible. We're talking about a 3-year-old.

Distributive vs integrative negotiation - her approach to the negotiation was distributive (i.e. a win-it-all approach). An integrative (or "expanding the pie") approach would have considered meeting her needs as well as my own (mine are as simple - for example, offering to draw me a picture for my office wall) to make both of us better off.

In a sense, though, "really really REALLY" is far more direct and probably less manipulative than the stuff above which is why I can appreciate it. Not to mention it's all my wife and I can expect from a toddler. 

As smart as Audrey is, pretty soon she'll be weaving circles around us, probably as Grace starts to use the Toddler method. And after that I expect they'll both conspire against us, and then we're in trouble.

Contractions

No, not the kind when you're having a baby. Word contractions.

Audrey's verbal skills have become so advanced that she's taken to contracting words that have never been contracted before. Her latest: "amn't." As in, "am not."

Daddy: "Audrey, are you tired?"

Audrey: "No, I amn't!"

It pops up regularly in conversation - we sometimes correct her but I kind of like it. It's one of only a very few words she gets wrong. 

I'm just glad she's not saying "ain't." It means the same thing as "amn't" but fortunately she realized how ridiculous it sounds.

The old couple

Yesterday, Audrey to me as she observes a really old couple navigating a crosswalk in downtown Boulder: "Those people are really old, daddy. I think they'll pass away soon."

What can you say to that?