For the first time in many years, I am not seeing eye-to-eye with my wonderful daycare provider. The issue? She put Olivia in time out.
It’s not that I’m opposed to time out—at our house, we call it “room time.” That way it can take place on another floor, and I don’t have to listen to the wailing that results.
But that’s for a four year old…not a baby.
And there’s the real issue: Apparently, Olivia is not a baby.
I went home and shared my frustration over the timeout with Bryan, and he had the nerve to point out that Olivia is almost two. In fact, he noted we should have been doing this for quite some time.
As I thought more, it occurred to me that I rarely tell Olivia no. I still rock her before bedtime. I allowed her to keep her pacifier at the mall yesterday. I am shocked at her relative size when I see her next to an infant.
In my defense, she is still so sweet and snugly and a bit dependent. She is easy going, sleeps more than the cat and loves being held. Plus, they call her “Baby O” at daycare–how’s that for a contradiction?
I think, though, I am starting to understand that she really is a toddler. As I loaded her into her carseat this morning, she took my face in her hands and said, “You are so cute!”
Right back at you, baby…er, Olivia.
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