Scene: Bee and I are sitting at the table having breakfast in our pyjamas; she’s eating Cheerios, I’m eating toast with a jug of coffee. She’s almost finished the bowl as I offer her another spoonful….
Me: More Cheerios?
Bee: (turns her head) No, Mummy.
Me: Yes, please. One more bite?
Me: Okay. Want to get ready for school?
Me: Hmm… not right now, Bee. It’s time to get ready for school.
Me: Um, no. We can listen to Elmo when we get home from school. Now it’s time to get dressed! (cheerfully) Want to help Mummy get dressed?
Bee: (thinking)… Elmo.
Me: Nope. Time for school.
Bee: (smiling) Elmo?
Bee: El. Mo.
Me: Sch. Ool.
Me: (recognizing her increasing frustration with not getting her way, I decide to be clever.) ELMOOOOOOO.
Bee’s eyes light up. She claps her hands together and squeals.
Bee: Hahahaaa! Elmoooooo! Mummy, ELMO! (Wiggling in her seat, laughing and reaching her hands towards me.) UP! Mummy, UP! ELMO!
Me: (Immediately regretting this lame attempt at reverse psychology, and knowing unless I want an epic meltdown, I relent.) Crap. I mean, CRUD. I mean…. oh, hell. One song.
I take Bee to the living room, where we happily dance around to not one, but two Elmo songs. Getting dressed and out the door was a breeze. Turns out, it was the right decision after all.