Yesterday was lovely outside and Miss Mariah called to see if Alex and I wanted to go for a walk. I let her know to come on over whenever since I knew we were going to be outside anyway because going inside is NOT OK anymore. Ever.
When she got there I told Alex he had to put his gloves on so we could go for a walk. Which shouldn't be a problem for the kid that spazes out when his gloves fall off, right? Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. When I tried putting his gloves on him, he screamed like I was forcing him to listen to Meatloaf against his will. I asked him if he wanted to go inside. That was met with an incredibly resounding no. So I told him very matter-of-factly that if he didn't put his gloves on we couldn't go for a walk and we had to go inside. I figured the threat of going inside was going to be enough to get the damn gloves on his freezing little red hands. Nope. And that's when the sucky part of threats had to be carried out. We had to cancel our walk and go inside. I'm not going to get into the fit that caused.
I gotta admit, I kinda feel like it's not fair that I had to miss out on a walk because he was being a punk. Being a parent that follows through with consequences is lame.
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