Time Out Failure

Tonight after dinner I was helping Toby to wash his hands and face when he started spitting on me. I explained to him that spitting was rude and asked him to stop. He didn’t. I asked him again. He continued to spit. I threatened a time out and counted to three. He waited until I had gotten to three and then ever so sweetly smiled up at me and spat in my face.

I had no choice but to calmly and firmly escort my soap-covered-spitting-three-year-old to the time out chair. Following the rules of “time outs” I looked at the clock and prayed that the 3 minutes would go by quickly.

They didn’t.

My three year old’s response to time outs is akin to the stages of grief – he starts with anger; flailing his limbs about in dramatic protest until the denial set in and he boldy get off the time out chair and attempts to innocently end his sentence early. After a few failed attempts at “denial”, he finally resigns himself to acceptance, as he sits back down and sheds great big alligator tears to signify his grief.

It is a long 3 minutes for both of us.

Finally, I had made my three minute point. As I escorted him off the chair and walked back to the bathroom to continue washing his hands I asked him why he had been given a time out.

“Be-be-because…I was SPITTTING” he guffawed through the tears of his torture.

“And are you going to spit again?” I asked

“N-n-n-NOOOOO!!!” He wailed in conclusion.

Satisfied that he had learned his lesson, I picked up his facecloth and made a little game of the face washing by pretending I was a washing machine, making loud noises with my mouth and sweeping his face in circular motion.

The tears stopped abruptly and he started at me in disbelief.

I guess he didn’t realize I was being a washing machine. All he could focus on was the fact that, in doing so, I had spat all over his face.