Sometimes we role play. Evelyn would be the little mermaid, and I would be Flounder/King Triton/Ursula/Prince Eric - depending on which part of the story we are reenacting.
Today, she wanted to be me, and told me to be her. Sure thing. I was so ready to throw a tantrum at her to let her have a taste of her medicine. But her performances halted me in my track:
"[mumble mumble] only mama can [mumble mumble] give you a time out!"
With a finger pointed at me and her eyes opened wide to portray a stern look "[mumble mumble] I will take it away!"
"Don't touch [mumble mumble] or I will give you a time out!"
Yeah, so for the next ten minutes or so, I sat there listening to her telling me to behave, threatening to give me time outs or taking my things away.
Dear me, is that all I am to her?
What about the times I spent playing two-people duck, duck goose with her, while holding baby Lauren in my arms?
Or the times when I sat on the little stool across from you in our tiny half bath per your request to keep you company while you go potty?
I know being a parent does not equate to being a good play mate, and often times not a good friend. There is necessarily rule settings and lots of no's. I just hope that the fun times leave as strong impressions as the not so fun times.
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