Obedience

Tonight, Ezra, you climbed on top of the (closed) toilet seat twice. I took you off both times and told you not to climb up again.

The second time I told you that you would get a time out if you didn't obey me. You merrily made a beeline to the bathroom anyway, and I stopped you and told you to obey me. Of course, Isaac started crying just then (you two! one of you always need Daddy or I most just when we're occupied with your brother!) and in the moment I was distracted, picking him up, you started off for the bathroom again. Daddy called to you, "remember what Mommy said! you need to obey!" and you started walking veeerrrryyy slowly back through the bedroom, to us.

You clamped your hands over your ears, acting as if you couldn't hear us. You had the biggest frown on your face and your chin was firmly planted on your chest, in disapproval. You kept walking towards me, as slow as I've ever seen you move. And then you plopped down right in front of me and said "I'm too little. And it's too dark." You often tell us that you're "too little" when you don't want to do something, but I'd never heard your "too dark" excuse. That's quite creative.

Oh, Ezra, it breaks my heart when you're defiant. You're so strong-willed sometimes. You want your own way, on your own timeline, so many times a day. Just like me.

But you're slowly learning to obey. I was so proud of you tonight. You didn't obey immediately or cheerfully, but you were obviously weighing the consequences and struggling to make the correct decision.

You've obeyed and disobeyed before, obviously. And it's not as if your exaggerated display of reluctant obedience is even really acceptable. But on a day like today where obedience has been such an issue for you, small victories are encouraging. And, of course, I can relate all too well to your reluctance to obey.