Julie was being cantankerous this evening and was proceeding to poke
daisy_knotwise painfully in the stomach while she was trying to eat dinner.
"That does it," Gretchen announced. "Kitchen chair, five minute timeout!"
Julie proceeded to scream at her instead of heading toward the chair.
"Julie, get in the chair."
Screaming continued.
I interjected, "Julie, get in the chair
now." No significant movement toward the chair.
"Do you want a ten minute timeout? One." This usually produces compliance. No such luck.
"Two. Three. Ten minutes. Get in the chair."
There was a vague drift toward the chair.
"One. Two. Three." And Julie was still not in the chair.
So up Daddy got and he picked up Julie, gave her a single swat on the bottom, and carried her upstairs under one arm for a ten minute timeout in her bed. This made her
very unhappy.
She announced that she had boogies, which she did after the crying on the way upstairs, in spades. I gave her a tissue. Then I relented and got her blanket from Gretchen and gave it to her.
And she stayed in the bed when I went downstairs, somewhat to my surprise.
I came up and commuted her sentence after seven minutes, figuring that solitary was probably worse than the kitchen chair.
Julie was
much better behaved for the rest of the evening.
And as long and as lonely seven minutes for a young child can be, she might not even have known you "caved" on the ten minutes.