Fifteenth Trip
Jun. 17th, 2011 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judifilksign Sparkle was in tantrum mode when I tried to jolly her out of it with a bike ride. She wanted to go to her best friend's house, and had packed a bag of DVDs to take with her. The kick to that gallop is that her bff is off in a different state right now, unavailable for visiting. Sparkle just would not accept that as an answer she wanted to hear, and kept screaming and hollering. Since past bike rides have magically made her happy, I decided to put her on the back and head on out.
Sparkle howled and screamed and jerked from side to side. She did not pedal at all. I kept pedaling as she screamed how she wanted to go to her friend's house, and kept trying to explain that THEY WERE NOT HOME, so WE COULD NOT GO, because THEY WERE NOT HOME.
At the first road, Sparkle flung herself so wildly to one side that we were thrown off balance and tipped over. I kept the bike from hitting the ground, but it smashed into me pretty hard on my inner thigh, and wrenched my arms a bit. Sparkle slid off her seat, stepping onto the path, turned around, and folded her arms defiantly at me. I took a deep breath, turned the bike around, and offered Sparkle water from the bottle. She shook her head no, and stalked off back toward home, crying and flapping her arms. The arm flapping is a sure sign that meltdown is in full progress, so I sat on the bike, leaning against the fence, drinking water and watched her for five minutes or so as she howled along the way.
A set of bikers heading towards us slowed as they passed her, and kept looking over their shoulders in concern. As they pulled up to me, I explained she was mine, and having a tantrum, and was walking it off, and I was keeping an eye on her. They looked at me as though I was a monster, and rode off, clearly disturbed, and continuing to look backwards.
I rode down behind Sparkle, and could hear her muttering angry nonsense syllables. She was beyond words, even. She would glare at me and run a little away ahead. I coasted a bit ahead of her, and the shriek of despair made me stop at another fence and wait for her to catch up. I offered a drink again (refused) and for her to get back on again (more shrieking.) She kept walking, and I found that I could ride very slowly, balancing carefully behind her. Slow riding is harder than fast riding in terms of balancing.
Sparkle walked all the way back to our little town, putting her bike helmet on her handlebars at one point so she didn't have to wear the helmet or carry it. When the path gap opened to where we usually cut over to the town's street, she pointed me over to it while she continued on the path. I told her that I was following her to keep her safe. At the top of the hill, she came over to me, and got on her seat. I asked her to put on her helmet, and she blew another fit. I got off the bike, and put the helmet on her, got back on, and started pedaling. More screaming, but I thought getting home sooner was better than this stop and go, and my patience was just about gone. I kept braking to not go too fast as the path crossed the rail road tracks, and then I had to stop for the town's main road, turn on it, re-cross the rail road tracks then turn left down hill again towards home. My bike brakes squeal terribly, and this set off Sparkle even more.
We rode the last block with her screaming like a fire engine behind me. Once home, she ran inside, slamming the door, and ran to my room, and cried on the bed a little. My darling husband went in to talk with her and cuddle, and she cried for me, too, so I went in and got her a drink (she'd walked over a mile, no water) and held her. My husband got her to apologize to me for her behavior.
From a parenting perspective, these things happen sometimes in every parent's life, where you hope that something the kid loves will be shiny enough to distract her from a disappointment. It didn't work this time. All I can say was that I gave her space to try to work it out herself, and she walked home. I kept her in sight, to keep her safe, and did not yell or punish her for the fit. She was punishing herself enough. At home, my husband and I calmed her down and let her know we loved her, to which she responded, "I know."
She's watching a Dora video right now. I am a bit drained, but it could have been worse. Does this prove that life is not always a bed of roses? Or maybe it is, and here are the thorns. I noticed a wild raspberry patch on the way back, going slowly. Thorns there, too.
Well, I got a very good workout pulling her over hill and dale, and worked my core muscles balancing on the way back. Here's hoping that tomorrow will be a better trip.
Sparkle howled and screamed and jerked from side to side. She did not pedal at all. I kept pedaling as she screamed how she wanted to go to her friend's house, and kept trying to explain that THEY WERE NOT HOME, so WE COULD NOT GO, because THEY WERE NOT HOME.
At the first road, Sparkle flung herself so wildly to one side that we were thrown off balance and tipped over. I kept the bike from hitting the ground, but it smashed into me pretty hard on my inner thigh, and wrenched my arms a bit. Sparkle slid off her seat, stepping onto the path, turned around, and folded her arms defiantly at me. I took a deep breath, turned the bike around, and offered Sparkle water from the bottle. She shook her head no, and stalked off back toward home, crying and flapping her arms. The arm flapping is a sure sign that meltdown is in full progress, so I sat on the bike, leaning against the fence, drinking water and watched her for five minutes or so as she howled along the way.
A set of bikers heading towards us slowed as they passed her, and kept looking over their shoulders in concern. As they pulled up to me, I explained she was mine, and having a tantrum, and was walking it off, and I was keeping an eye on her. They looked at me as though I was a monster, and rode off, clearly disturbed, and continuing to look backwards.
I rode down behind Sparkle, and could hear her muttering angry nonsense syllables. She was beyond words, even. She would glare at me and run a little away ahead. I coasted a bit ahead of her, and the shriek of despair made me stop at another fence and wait for her to catch up. I offered a drink again (refused) and for her to get back on again (more shrieking.) She kept walking, and I found that I could ride very slowly, balancing carefully behind her. Slow riding is harder than fast riding in terms of balancing.
Sparkle walked all the way back to our little town, putting her bike helmet on her handlebars at one point so she didn't have to wear the helmet or carry it. When the path gap opened to where we usually cut over to the town's street, she pointed me over to it while she continued on the path. I told her that I was following her to keep her safe. At the top of the hill, she came over to me, and got on her seat. I asked her to put on her helmet, and she blew another fit. I got off the bike, and put the helmet on her, got back on, and started pedaling. More screaming, but I thought getting home sooner was better than this stop and go, and my patience was just about gone. I kept braking to not go too fast as the path crossed the rail road tracks, and then I had to stop for the town's main road, turn on it, re-cross the rail road tracks then turn left down hill again towards home. My bike brakes squeal terribly, and this set off Sparkle even more.
We rode the last block with her screaming like a fire engine behind me. Once home, she ran inside, slamming the door, and ran to my room, and cried on the bed a little. My darling husband went in to talk with her and cuddle, and she cried for me, too, so I went in and got her a drink (she'd walked over a mile, no water) and held her. My husband got her to apologize to me for her behavior.
From a parenting perspective, these things happen sometimes in every parent's life, where you hope that something the kid loves will be shiny enough to distract her from a disappointment. It didn't work this time. All I can say was that I gave her space to try to work it out herself, and she walked home. I kept her in sight, to keep her safe, and did not yell or punish her for the fit. She was punishing herself enough. At home, my husband and I calmed her down and let her know we loved her, to which she responded, "I know."
She's watching a Dora video right now. I am a bit drained, but it could have been worse. Does this prove that life is not always a bed of roses? Or maybe it is, and here are the thorns. I noticed a wild raspberry patch on the way back, going slowly. Thorns there, too.
Well, I got a very good workout pulling her over hill and dale, and worked my core muscles balancing on the way back. Here's hoping that tomorrow will be a better trip.
