If you haven't seen it, in SC this week, a 16 year old girl was playing with her phone in class. Teacher asked her to stop and she refused. An administrator came to try to get her to leave the room and she wouldn't. The police officer was called. Cell phone video shows him flipping her desk (with her in it) backwards, then picking her up and throwing her several feet across the room.
I'm no medical expert, but it certainly appeared that his actions could have resulted easily in an injury to her skull or cervical spine.
To me, it seemed clear-cut: a potentially paralyzing or life-threatening injury is not an appropriate response to a kid who won't put her phone away and leave the room. But not so to talk radio and internet commenters!
Instead of going rage-blind on the freeway again while listening to the radio, allow me to respond here to some of the things I heard.
She's a teenager, she's not a child. They're portraying it like she's a child.
Because semantics are the game we should all be playing right now. Look, I've worked with thousands of sixteen-year-olds. They're children. They're big, puberty-ridden children, but emotionally they are not mature and their brains are not developed.
Well, if she would have just done what she was supposed to in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.
Again, we don't need spine-injuring punishment for what is really a fairly minor infraction. It also wouldn't have happened if the teacher, administrator, and SRO had made some different decisions along the way.
Teenagers these days [insert bullshit flow]...
Ah yes, the "golden era" argument, where we look back and see the 50s (usually), when kids minded their manners, never talked back, and were angels who... wait, that was the fictional Lake Wobegon. If kids behaved better in school decades ago, it was not because they were respectful, but because A: they were scared shitless of getting smacked* or B: because they weren't there because they dropped out.
*which I am not in favor of.
Parents need to teach their kids how to be respectful.
Yeah, sure. I'm in favor of that. But again, not for fear of their children being made quadriplegic.
Plus, like what's your empathy level? "Your beloved puppy got hit by a car? Should have taught him not to go in the street!"
It's not a race thing. I don't even think of people as black and white.
Bully for you! But if you said that, there's like a 99% chance that you're white, and I'll tell you why: because people of color don't get the benefit of not thinking about race. From systemic oppression to microaggression, it's something that comes up in their lives a lot. Imagine what a douchecanoe you'd sound like if you parked in the handicapped spot, then when someone in a wheelchair called you on it, you were like, "I don't even SEE handicaps!" and walked away without moving your car.
Just take a second and imagine a pretty blond white sixteen year old in this video. Same reaction?
We don't know what happened before the video started.
No, but we do know that she isn't armed, is a 16 year old girl, and is seated in a desk when the cop assaults her, throwing her backwards onto her head.
There's a third video that shows she tried to punch him!
There's a third video that shows her arms flailing wildly while, in a chokehold, she is thrown backwards. I don't know what you think the proper arm position is for that situation. Limp?
Actually, if you go frame by frame, you can see that she threw herself backwards!
Actually, I have those same desks in my classroom, and they have a wide base and a low center of gravity. I invite you to try flipping one over backwards. But I watched it frame by frame to make sure I was being fair. At the moment the desk legs go up, her own feet are off the floor. There's no way she had the leverage to flip herself over.
The cop has a black girlfriend, so he can't be racist!
Why on earth not?
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Lochlan loves love
When Sweetie and I got married, we had custom fortune cookies made. One of the "fortunes" read "We love love! Thank you for celebrating with us."
Well, lemme tell ya who else loves love... the boy child of our loins!
He is just the sweetest, cuddliest, lovingest, most affectionate child. I mean, Z wants to snuggle, but on her terms, and she can be prickly. He can barely communicate, and about a third of what he communicates is that he loves us (the rest is mostly about eating, trucks and cats).
My parents used to do this gesture to me, and I do it to my own kids -- I point to my eye, my heart, and them to mean "I love you." Zadie learned it and did it back to me when she was a little older than Lochlan, but he has already done it, pointing to his heart, then to me.
He also loves his stuffed Clifford dog. He pointed to his chest, then to Clifford. I said, "You love Clifford?" He said "yeah."
He also gives hugs, pats us on the arm when we're holding him, rests his head on our chests, smiles at us, and tonight, when I told him "I love you," he said something like "AAA-OUU!"
I'll take it.
Well, lemme tell ya who else loves love... the boy child of our loins!
He is just the sweetest, cuddliest, lovingest, most affectionate child. I mean, Z wants to snuggle, but on her terms, and she can be prickly. He can barely communicate, and about a third of what he communicates is that he loves us (the rest is mostly about eating, trucks and cats).
My parents used to do this gesture to me, and I do it to my own kids -- I point to my eye, my heart, and them to mean "I love you." Zadie learned it and did it back to me when she was a little older than Lochlan, but he has already done it, pointing to his heart, then to me.
He also loves his stuffed Clifford dog. He pointed to his chest, then to Clifford. I said, "You love Clifford?" He said "yeah."
He also gives hugs, pats us on the arm when we're holding him, rests his head on our chests, smiles at us, and tonight, when I told him "I love you," he said something like "AAA-OUU!"
I'll take it.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
We have a winner!
You may remember that two years ago, Z competed in a karate tournament. She completely froze up and didn't place, but I was very proud that she kept her composure until we were in the car.
Last year, she signed up for the karate tournament her own dojo was putting on. I was sure she'd do well. She had practiced, had home court advantage... So I was sitting in the audience watching the Taiko drummers when I decided to go check on her. It happened that she was running towards me down the hallway, vomiting and crying. We had to go home, of course.
This year she signed up for the tournament in two events, katas (a series of practiced movements) and sparring. I thought her kata was really good, and when I saw there were only seven participants, I really thought she might place. I stayed somewhat far away so I couldn't catch her eye and accidentally distract her. And I heard her begin her introductions... then freeze again. I couldn't tell whether she was prompted or remembered, but she did get started again, then did Tiger Roll Kata (which she did well), and sat down. Her scores were not high, but not awful either. She didn't place, but she did get through it all admirably.
Then came sparring, which was on the other side of the auditorium from where I'd been watching. I moved so I could see better. There were only six kids, and I knew two of them well, and both of them regularly beat her in class. She had her first match, against one of the girls I didn't know. The girl was taller than Z, and they were well matched, but Zadie won 5-3.
A girl in her class then sparred and won her match, and then a boy in her class sparred and won his match. So far, her dojo was doing really well.
Z then was paired up with the girl from her class. I thought, "Well, this was a nice run, and she should be proud of her performance today, but she's about to get her ass handed to her, so this is the end of the line." But then it wasn't. She got in several good kicks and a few good punches. The match was a nail-biter. When one of the judges thinks they see a point, they briefly stop the match and all three judges say whether they believe one of the contestants should be awarded a point. Well several times, either the judges didn't all see, or they disagreed, so it was kind of a long match. Z was behind for a while in the beginning, but when time was called, she was ahead, so she had won her second match, too!
Then the other girl had to fight again. It was her third match, and I'm not that great at figuring out how to tell who's in what place. She won her third match, and if you are good at this sort of thing, you have figured out by now that this means she's just won third place, and the two people vying for first will now spar.
And they do. And it's my kid against the boy from her dojo. And he's really good. He wins most of his matches in the dojo. He's aggressive, and he puts other kids on the defense or on the run. He's also really focused. Z, on the other hand, tends to lose focus and end up on the run. But not this time. This match was a nail-biter, too. It was one point for him, one for her almost throughout. There were a ton of times when the judges didn't see or couldn't agree. And then he kicked her and she fell down on her tailbone. And one thing she is not, man, is resilient. I could see she was going to cry, and so I hiked the baby up onto my hip, leaned forward to wait for the judge's word that I could go get her, and ... kept waiting, because he talked her down. And in a minute or so, she was ready to go on. And she put her all into it, and she earned those last couple points, and there it was! She was the first place winner! Oh, you should have seen her face. She knew she shouldn't celebrate unduly so that she wouldn't make the other kid sad, but she couldn't help but grin.
And I am glad, because sometimes things are so hard for her. Sometimes she gets yelled at by us. Sometimes the other kids at school don't get her. Sometimes her very patient, understanding teacher has to pull me aside to tell me what went wrong that day, and last week that was nearly every day. She just needed a win, I think. And she earned one.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
A way in
Today we had a faculty meeting at work. It began abruptly with our principal talking frankly about race -- about the fact that it has always been true and it is true at our school and every other school with a population of students of color, that if you go to the in-school suspension room, it will be mostly students of color. More than that (at a school like ours, there are almost no white kids), of all those students, most will be black. He even had some numbers from recent days.
He went on to say that sometimes black kids express themselves differently than we might -- they may tend less to bottle up their feelings, and instead respond quickly and out loud. And then we send them to the principal's office.
He wanted a way to not excuse bad behavior, but maybe for us to make room for understanding and acceptance of different kinds of behavior than we might be used to. He asked some students in an after-school program to share their stories with us. He listened to them first to get an idea of how it would go.
And when he heard how teachers were indicted in their stories, he thought it was too harsh, that we would tune out, and he cancelled it, asking them to maybe re-work the stories in ways that were more accessible to us.
And so he listened again, and he still thought they were too harsh. But when he listened, so did several other adults -- all people of color. And they all disagreed. So he went home and checked his privilege and decided to go ahead with it. We heard their stories today.
And mostly what we heard were things that we know intellectually. We know about substance abuse and physical abuse and sexual abuse and incarceration and gangs and drug dealing and the foster care system and hunger. But we don't often have a 16 year old girl in front of us, her hands shaking and on the verge of tears, telling us that when she got in trouble for being distracted in class, it was because she was wondering why her mother hadn't told her she loved her for thirteen years. Being in foster care is one thing -- we talk to foster parents all the time -- but hearing about why a girl was taken from her mother was different, bleaker. One of the things that surprised me most was how alone these kids were. Several spoke about not knowing their fathers, their mothers dead or disappeared or legally separated from them, but they were also separated from siblings who had moved, been murdered, been taken by their other parent, or were otherwise unavailable. These weren't kids who had no father but still had a loving network. These were kids who were basically alone in the world.
And then they came to school and were asked if they were retarded, if they were illiterate. Told they might as well give up because they'd never make anything of themselves. Told the dream of being a doctor was too far out of reach. I was angry at the thought that some of my colleagues could have said these things.
In the back of my mind, I wondered whether I had said anything like that, or anything that even if meant well, could be interpreted that way. I have certainly pulled a kid aside and asked him to read to me because I wasn't sure he could. I think I did it lovingly and privately, but... how did he feel?
And then a student got up, telling a story in third person with a false name because he wasn't ready yet to reveal that it was his story. "Shawn," he said, "hadn't eaten since yesterday at lunchtime, so he was begging food off his friends and eating it in class. He got sent to the principal's office." I thought of the students I had chastened this week for eating in class. "Shawn went home that night and his dad came home drunk. His dad and mom argued until 2am, so Shawn couldn't sleep. The next day in class, Shawn fell asleep at his desk, so the teacher told him to stand up. He stood up for ten minutes, then asked to sit back down. He fell asleep again, so the teacher sent him to the principal's office." I thought of the kids I constantly wake up.
Don't worry, I don't intend to suddenly let every classroom-inappropriate behavior go, inventing excuses for them or assuming the worst. But I do think I'm going to take a second to think about whether it could be the case. I'm not a hardass anyway. Today a kid came in with a nectarine and said he was hungry, so could he finish it outside real quick? I said yes, of course.
And I'm not a send-kids-to-the-principal kind of teacher anyway. My classroom is mine, and I will deal with the issues that come up if I can. In the last two and a half years, I've probably sent two referrals.
But if I can contribute positively to the atmosphere of my school... If I can make it a safe place to be... If I can not just get them college- and career- ready, but also let them know that I care and believe in them... If I can not make the journey or even an hour worse... That's what I'm in education to do.
One of the first student speakers today said that teachers were often looking for a way out of the situation, but she wanted them to find a way in. I can't save them all. I can't fix 15 years of prior trauma and neglect and lack of education. But if they're going to land in my class, they're going to find a soft place to land.
He went on to say that sometimes black kids express themselves differently than we might -- they may tend less to bottle up their feelings, and instead respond quickly and out loud. And then we send them to the principal's office.
He wanted a way to not excuse bad behavior, but maybe for us to make room for understanding and acceptance of different kinds of behavior than we might be used to. He asked some students in an after-school program to share their stories with us. He listened to them first to get an idea of how it would go.
And when he heard how teachers were indicted in their stories, he thought it was too harsh, that we would tune out, and he cancelled it, asking them to maybe re-work the stories in ways that were more accessible to us.
And so he listened again, and he still thought they were too harsh. But when he listened, so did several other adults -- all people of color. And they all disagreed. So he went home and checked his privilege and decided to go ahead with it. We heard their stories today.
And mostly what we heard were things that we know intellectually. We know about substance abuse and physical abuse and sexual abuse and incarceration and gangs and drug dealing and the foster care system and hunger. But we don't often have a 16 year old girl in front of us, her hands shaking and on the verge of tears, telling us that when she got in trouble for being distracted in class, it was because she was wondering why her mother hadn't told her she loved her for thirteen years. Being in foster care is one thing -- we talk to foster parents all the time -- but hearing about why a girl was taken from her mother was different, bleaker. One of the things that surprised me most was how alone these kids were. Several spoke about not knowing their fathers, their mothers dead or disappeared or legally separated from them, but they were also separated from siblings who had moved, been murdered, been taken by their other parent, or were otherwise unavailable. These weren't kids who had no father but still had a loving network. These were kids who were basically alone in the world.
And then they came to school and were asked if they were retarded, if they were illiterate. Told they might as well give up because they'd never make anything of themselves. Told the dream of being a doctor was too far out of reach. I was angry at the thought that some of my colleagues could have said these things.
In the back of my mind, I wondered whether I had said anything like that, or anything that even if meant well, could be interpreted that way. I have certainly pulled a kid aside and asked him to read to me because I wasn't sure he could. I think I did it lovingly and privately, but... how did he feel?
And then a student got up, telling a story in third person with a false name because he wasn't ready yet to reveal that it was his story. "Shawn," he said, "hadn't eaten since yesterday at lunchtime, so he was begging food off his friends and eating it in class. He got sent to the principal's office." I thought of the students I had chastened this week for eating in class. "Shawn went home that night and his dad came home drunk. His dad and mom argued until 2am, so Shawn couldn't sleep. The next day in class, Shawn fell asleep at his desk, so the teacher told him to stand up. He stood up for ten minutes, then asked to sit back down. He fell asleep again, so the teacher sent him to the principal's office." I thought of the kids I constantly wake up.
Don't worry, I don't intend to suddenly let every classroom-inappropriate behavior go, inventing excuses for them or assuming the worst. But I do think I'm going to take a second to think about whether it could be the case. I'm not a hardass anyway. Today a kid came in with a nectarine and said he was hungry, so could he finish it outside real quick? I said yes, of course.
And I'm not a send-kids-to-the-principal kind of teacher anyway. My classroom is mine, and I will deal with the issues that come up if I can. In the last two and a half years, I've probably sent two referrals.
But if I can contribute positively to the atmosphere of my school... If I can make it a safe place to be... If I can not just get them college- and career- ready, but also let them know that I care and believe in them... If I can not make the journey or even an hour worse... That's what I'm in education to do.
One of the first student speakers today said that teachers were often looking for a way out of the situation, but she wanted them to find a way in. I can't save them all. I can't fix 15 years of prior trauma and neglect and lack of education. But if they're going to land in my class, they're going to find a soft place to land.
Wednesday, October 07, 2015
Lochie is 13 months and some change
Boy, you wouldn't believe this kid some days. He has the best appetite, and he'll eat nearly anything (he likes pickles and broccoli, for instance). He has really good fine motor skills. In fact, he even picked up a pencil and scribbled on a paper today. He is slooowwlly learning to walk -- a more generous person might give him credit for having done so, because he has taken a couple shuffling steps on a couple occasions.
He is still absolutely crazy for books. He could sit and be read to all day, I think. When you finish one of his favorite books, he'll hand it back to you to read again. He will even sit and turn the pages of a book himself for maybe five minutes. His big favorites right now are the Little Blue Truck books and I Love My Mommy Because (which I got for Z at the zoo gift shop years ago -- it has pictures of animals in it). He pays careful attention to that one, smiling slightly throughout, and then on the last page, which has a picture of a human mommy and a little boy, he grunts, throws himself forward at the book, and points at the picture. I'll say, "Is that like Mommy and Lochlan?" He smiles.
Like his sister, he's a huge climber. Mom took him to the park today and he was climbing all the things.
We were also discussing the ways he is unlike his sister. First of all, she never slept well. He's a great sleeper. He still often gets three naps in a day.
He will sit and focus on a single activity for a long time, whereas she never did. You had to run after her all the time. If you put him in the sandbox with a shovel, you can pretty much sit down and relax, because he's going to spend the next 20-30 minutes digging (and periodically putting disgusting things in his mouth).
We also never really noticed that Z doesn't nod for yes or shake her head for no until this year, when it was a question on the autism forms. I searched my memory and was like... I don't think she does! I called Mom, and Mom couldn't remember her doing it either. We never noticed because she could (and did) say yes or no so early and so clearly, so it never seemed like something was missing. But it's adorable to watch Lochlan nod his head in agreement. Today one of the cats took a (harmless) swipe at him, and I said "Mean cat!" He pouted his little lip out and nodded his head.
He is saying more words and making more signs. I think Grandma sees more of these than I do, but she said he can clearly say "truck" "duck" and "clock" and make the sign for airplane, as well as all done, milk, dog, and some others.
Plus, I really don't try to make my kids conform to gender roles, and I think Z is a pretty well balanced kid. I indulged the fairy and princess stuff when she wanted to and pushed the science and karate and just tried to let her be her. I was never like "you're such a girly-girl!" or anything. So forgive me if I say that Lochlan is a real guy's guy. He likes trucks, buses, airplanes, helicopters, and dogs. A lot. Fire trucks are his favorite, but even a pickup will do in a pinch. It cracks us up how excited he'll get over a truck. Zadie liked to watch the garbage trucks, too, but he's really enthusiastic about it.
And that's my boy at 13 months! He's peacefully asleep now after our bedtime dance of nursing, the I Love My Mommy book, a song ("This Land is Your Land" tonight) and a snuggle with PetePea.
He is still absolutely crazy for books. He could sit and be read to all day, I think. When you finish one of his favorite books, he'll hand it back to you to read again. He will even sit and turn the pages of a book himself for maybe five minutes. His big favorites right now are the Little Blue Truck books and I Love My Mommy Because (which I got for Z at the zoo gift shop years ago -- it has pictures of animals in it). He pays careful attention to that one, smiling slightly throughout, and then on the last page, which has a picture of a human mommy and a little boy, he grunts, throws himself forward at the book, and points at the picture. I'll say, "Is that like Mommy and Lochlan?" He smiles.
Like his sister, he's a huge climber. Mom took him to the park today and he was climbing all the things.
We were also discussing the ways he is unlike his sister. First of all, she never slept well. He's a great sleeper. He still often gets three naps in a day.
He will sit and focus on a single activity for a long time, whereas she never did. You had to run after her all the time. If you put him in the sandbox with a shovel, you can pretty much sit down and relax, because he's going to spend the next 20-30 minutes digging (and periodically putting disgusting things in his mouth).
We also never really noticed that Z doesn't nod for yes or shake her head for no until this year, when it was a question on the autism forms. I searched my memory and was like... I don't think she does! I called Mom, and Mom couldn't remember her doing it either. We never noticed because she could (and did) say yes or no so early and so clearly, so it never seemed like something was missing. But it's adorable to watch Lochlan nod his head in agreement. Today one of the cats took a (harmless) swipe at him, and I said "Mean cat!" He pouted his little lip out and nodded his head.
He is saying more words and making more signs. I think Grandma sees more of these than I do, but she said he can clearly say "truck" "duck" and "clock" and make the sign for airplane, as well as all done, milk, dog, and some others.
Plus, I really don't try to make my kids conform to gender roles, and I think Z is a pretty well balanced kid. I indulged the fairy and princess stuff when she wanted to and pushed the science and karate and just tried to let her be her. I was never like "you're such a girly-girl!" or anything. So forgive me if I say that Lochlan is a real guy's guy. He likes trucks, buses, airplanes, helicopters, and dogs. A lot. Fire trucks are his favorite, but even a pickup will do in a pinch. It cracks us up how excited he'll get over a truck. Zadie liked to watch the garbage trucks, too, but he's really enthusiastic about it.
And that's my boy at 13 months! He's peacefully asleep now after our bedtime dance of nursing, the I Love My Mommy book, a song ("This Land is Your Land" tonight) and a snuggle with PetePea.
Sunday, October 04, 2015
Some days...
As you might imagine, simply having Z's diagnosis doesn't always make everything easier. I mean, it makes things a little easier to understand, but not, like... more fun.
Today was less fun.
I really want to be able to put the baby in a bike trailer and take a ride with Z by my side. That just seems like it would be so much fun. But we've been buying Z trikes and balance bikes and real bikes with training wheels and trail-a-bike rigs since forever, and she's just never showed much interest. Mind you, I could have provided more opportunities to practice instead of waiting for her to ask, but there it stands.
Today I asked if she'd want to try again. She did. We pumped up her tires, put on her helmet, and headed outside. I coached her ("Push hard down on the left pedal. No, don't pedal backwards.") verbally for several tries, then gave it a shot at holding onto the seat and pushing her. I did my best, but it's an awkward angle and she's 53 pounds, plus it's a big bike -- when it started to tip I just couldn't right her with my fingertips on the seat. She didn't get hurt or anything, but she blamed me for tipping her over. And then she didn't want to ride anymore. It's just frustrating to see her give up so easily, and worse, to get blamed for it (like, she was really mad at me).
Later I took her to Target and Cost Plus. There were only three things I needed at Target so I thought it could be a quick trip. But she had to stop on every aisle to ask for things. If I'd bought her everything she wanted, I'd have easily dropped $150. And then when I checked out, she wandered off to look at toy cars, not telling me where she was going. I found her and told her we were leaving, but she wouldn't come. I thought if I walked out the door (Okay, I'm going! Here I go right now!), she'd follow, but she didn't, so I had to go to the other set of doors to go back in (because the automatic doors don't let you go back in the exit) to retrieve her. And of course, it was all my fault again. In her version, I didn't tell her we were leaving, and she had told me she was going to look at cars.
We went to Cost Plus just for fun, to look at Halloween decorations. I told her before we went in that we were just window shopping. Inside, she again wanted one of everything (as always), but I felt a little bad for saying no so much. Plus, I was overwhelmed with nostalgia -- they had New York Seltzer, a soda I used to get and loved as a young teen. I told her I'd buy her one, so we selected the flavor that sounded best, bought it, and brought it home. I told her she should put it in the fridge and try it later when it was cold, but she insisted she was going to have a sip warm, then put it in the freezer for a short time. I took the lid off for her, she had her warm sip, then went to put it in the freezer. But she forgot to put the lid back on, and she couldn't find a flat surface to rest it on, so it fell and spilled all over the kitchen.
I felt bad for her, and I told her we'd get another one soon, but I also gave her some paper towels to clean up, and I got down on the floor to clean it up with her. In my opinion, that was reasonable, but she again thought it was all my fault, was furiously angry with me, stormed off to her room, yelled at me, and told me not to talk to her.
I understand that she's frustrated, too. She was unsuccessful at riding her bike. She wanted things and didn't get them. She spilled her treat. But you know, I was trying to be a good mom today. I wanted to have fun. I got her a treat. And all I got was yelled at and blamed.
I hope the behavioral therapy can address that. It kind of sucks.
Today was less fun.
I really want to be able to put the baby in a bike trailer and take a ride with Z by my side. That just seems like it would be so much fun. But we've been buying Z trikes and balance bikes and real bikes with training wheels and trail-a-bike rigs since forever, and she's just never showed much interest. Mind you, I could have provided more opportunities to practice instead of waiting for her to ask, but there it stands.
Today I asked if she'd want to try again. She did. We pumped up her tires, put on her helmet, and headed outside. I coached her ("Push hard down on the left pedal. No, don't pedal backwards.") verbally for several tries, then gave it a shot at holding onto the seat and pushing her. I did my best, but it's an awkward angle and she's 53 pounds, plus it's a big bike -- when it started to tip I just couldn't right her with my fingertips on the seat. She didn't get hurt or anything, but she blamed me for tipping her over. And then she didn't want to ride anymore. It's just frustrating to see her give up so easily, and worse, to get blamed for it (like, she was really mad at me).
Later I took her to Target and Cost Plus. There were only three things I needed at Target so I thought it could be a quick trip. But she had to stop on every aisle to ask for things. If I'd bought her everything she wanted, I'd have easily dropped $150. And then when I checked out, she wandered off to look at toy cars, not telling me where she was going. I found her and told her we were leaving, but she wouldn't come. I thought if I walked out the door (Okay, I'm going! Here I go right now!), she'd follow, but she didn't, so I had to go to the other set of doors to go back in (because the automatic doors don't let you go back in the exit) to retrieve her. And of course, it was all my fault again. In her version, I didn't tell her we were leaving, and she had told me she was going to look at cars.
We went to Cost Plus just for fun, to look at Halloween decorations. I told her before we went in that we were just window shopping. Inside, she again wanted one of everything (as always), but I felt a little bad for saying no so much. Plus, I was overwhelmed with nostalgia -- they had New York Seltzer, a soda I used to get and loved as a young teen. I told her I'd buy her one, so we selected the flavor that sounded best, bought it, and brought it home. I told her she should put it in the fridge and try it later when it was cold, but she insisted she was going to have a sip warm, then put it in the freezer for a short time. I took the lid off for her, she had her warm sip, then went to put it in the freezer. But she forgot to put the lid back on, and she couldn't find a flat surface to rest it on, so it fell and spilled all over the kitchen.
I felt bad for her, and I told her we'd get another one soon, but I also gave her some paper towels to clean up, and I got down on the floor to clean it up with her. In my opinion, that was reasonable, but she again thought it was all my fault, was furiously angry with me, stormed off to her room, yelled at me, and told me not to talk to her.
I understand that she's frustrated, too. She was unsuccessful at riding her bike. She wanted things and didn't get them. She spilled her treat. But you know, I was trying to be a good mom today. I wanted to have fun. I got her a treat. And all I got was yelled at and blamed.
I hope the behavioral therapy can address that. It kind of sucks.
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