Help Me!

You know the old joke about how you spend the first 2 years of a child’s life trying to get them to talk, then the next 16 trying to get them to shut up? Yeah, well, I taught Ying to say something that I am really starting to regret (and no, Mom, it’s not ARM PIT – nor is it a profanity). She had a habit of going into a different room, then crying because she wanted something. Well, a couple of time she was in another room crying because she had gotten herself into a situation that she couldn’t get out of. Unfortunately for her, I was so used to the crying because she couldn’t reach the rubber duck in the bottom of the tub or get the hall closet doors open that I didn’t respond quickly when she really needed me (like the time her fingers were stuck in the doggy door – hey, I told her not to put her hand in there!). So, I taught her to ask for help – specifically to say “HELP ME” when she is hurt or stuck and needs Mama to come help her. Stupid, stupid Mommy. We now have an average of 7 “help me” situations a day. I’ll be busy making dinner or throwing some laundry into the washer when I’ll hear “Mama, help me, help me”. Yeah, help me get some strawberry milk. Help me strap Blue Bear into the stroller. Help me take my pajamas off. Not one time has “help me” been used in an actual emergency type situation. She’s like that little boy crying wolf. Pretty soon I’m going to stop responding to the “help mes” – and you know as soon as I do she’ll get her hair caught in the dryer door. Some lifes, you just can’t win.