I like cleaning – sometimes. My kid doesn’t – ever.
Right now, she is up in her bedroom crying loudly and alternately grumbling under her breath. “I hate doing this. I hate doing this.” (At least she’s not saying, “I hate my mommy, I hate my mommy.”) Then I hear the occasional bang.
The lead-up to this was my asking her to pick up her books and put them on her bookshelf. Nothing more than that. She’s not refusing to do it – which is a step forward in itself.
But once she started crying, I asked her to shut the door. “I don’t need to hear you.” She wouldn’t close it.
“I want someone to hear me,” she said. She wanted to know I could hear her grumble and whine. She just wants her discontent to be heard.
Don’t we all.
So, I’ve left her door open. She knows I can hear her. And she’s picking up her books.