It's a Hit

She's into hitting these days.

Remember when I said last time that she'd turned into an angel? Yeah, not so much. Lately she's been delighting in pushing my buttons, and that includes taking whacks at my face and chest because nothing gets my attention faster.

I can always tell when it's going to happen. In Scenario #1, I pick her up against her will, either because it's time to do something else or because she's misbehaving. She gets angry, and hits my chest as hard as she can. In Scenario #2, I lean in to give her a kiss or otherwise provide her access to my face, she gets a mischievous glint in her eye, and the next thing you know she's bonked me in the nose.

In the words of Tina Fey, I will not have that shit. So we've implemented the Time Out Chair.

The Time Out Chair is the saddest thing you've ever seen.

Isn't that sad? It's sandwiched between the china cabinet and the computer desk, possibly the most boring spot in the whole house. Friday was the first day I had to use the Time Out Chair for hitting. I put her into it and set the Timer App on my phone to beep in 90 seconds.

She didn't like the chair, but funnily enough, what really freaked her out was the sound of the timer going off. She wanted to tell us about the "noise" for the rest of the evening.

Yesterday, I had to use Time Out again. This time she was throwing her pasta on the ground so the dogs could eat it, and repeated warnings only made her throw it more enthusiastically. This time she knew what was coming, and whined the entire time she was in the chair. "Up peese," "Mommy," "Daddy," "Hug," anything she could think of. THIS KID IS EIGHTEEN MONTHS OLD. I can only imagine the psychological torture she is going to inflict upon us when she gets old enough to slam her bedroom door.

You know what, though? I think it's working. Today when I came home I picked her up. She hugged me, and when I asked her for a kiss, I saw that glint in her eye as she wound-up for the pitch. She literally stopped herself mid swing. "Good girl," I told her. And later she made up for it by biting her cookie into a crescent shape, showing it to me, and proudly saying, "Moon."