When my youngest was two and refused to pick up her toys, I picked her up, put her feet on top of my feet, held her hands and walked her over to the nearest toy.
I bent down, still holding her hands, grabbed the toy between her hands, together with her feet still on top of mine, we walked over to the toy box and I pulled her hands apart and let the toy drop in.
She was screaming bloody murder the whole time and I figured someone probably thought I was abusing her.
So after the toy went in the toy box, I said to her, *Either you pick up your toys yourself or we do this again until you do.*
Still crying her eyes out, she proceeded to pick up every toy she left out.
I didn’t have to do it twice.
I always figured that the reason God made kids smaller than us was so that when they didn’t listen, we could literally force them to.
I wanted the thought in their minds that when I told them to do something, they HAD to listen, because once they hit teenage years and they were too big to force to do anything any more, they needed the mindset that they had no choice but to listen to me.
When in Grade School overheard my Grandma and another woman talking about someone they knew who had a two year old who they considered “spoiled”. This child’s mother, when she came over would set everything out of reach of the child so the he would not touch it. My Grandma and her friend were like “if she does not want him touching it she should simply smack his hand and give a firm ‘NO’”.
I asked my Grandma more in this. She said, more or less this mother was creating more trouble for herself and you start training a child the day you bring it home from the hospital. She said “by smacking his hand and telling him ‘no’ you are telling him that some things are not for him”.
Case in point that 4 year old in the last story I sent you. That machine was not for him and the nurse had told him “no” once and that is all she should have had to tell him. Had his mother been smacking his hand all along that nurse would not have had to smack his rear end.
What you wanna bet that boy and the boy in this story gonna have inmates smacking their faces one day in Cell Block B?
My Grandma was correct “the day they come home from the hospital”.