Preschool Angst

Alana has recently given me a few reasons to dread her teenage years. She is one of the most stubborn people I've ever known, which she didn't get from me. I'm moderately stubborn sometimes, but sometimes I'm an all-out pushover.

She has refused to cooperate when I try to cut her nails, requiring small bribes or threats in order to willingly hand over her fingernails. Gross, dirty and overgrown fingernails bother me so much that I do not tolerate them on my children. They serve no purpose, and do not aid in the climbing of trees, as my brother once stated.

One night she outright refused pajamas, which have never been a problem before. She wants to sleep in her dirty clothes she's been wearing all day. That's not happening.

Most of the time her stubborness and tendency towards being a drama queen four year old are fine. We can live with it. It's even kind of funny.

After David wouldn't let her have her way the other day, her emotions overflowed and she responded in a truly teenage way. Fine then! I'm not gonna be your child anymore!

An outburst like that is hilarious at four, not so much at fourteen. I actually laughed so hard after she said that that I cried. Might've been sending the wrong message.

She is emotional, and loving, and sweet and cute and pretty. But when she's a teenager, I'm definitely screwed.