Co-parenting blues: two approaches, one outcome
Today, my husband was transitioning to Parent In Charge as I prepared to hang out at my coffee shop/"office" for a few hours. Everett was showing the obvious signs of needing to poop and I suggested that he go. "I don't need to poop!" he said brightly. Dad took over. "GO!" he told him with his typical forceful daddy-ness. "Go sit on the toilet and try!"
I'm really working to be a better co-parent, and waited until Everett had run, sobbing loudly and wailing for his mama, upstairs to the bathroom.
"I think a gentle approach would work better," I explained reasonably. "I've been much more successful with..." [10 minutes of tense arguments over my relative success, Jonathan's disagreement with my methods in general, and our inability to listen to one another cut for the interests of story flow] "... potty." And Everett came running down the stairs happily.
"I went potty!" he said brightly. "Can I have a treat?"
Oh, the co-parenting blues are upon me. I hate it when he's right.
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