when the boys were wee littler i had a chair in the kitchen set off from the other chairs. if they were naughty they had to sit in that chair for a timeout and i’d tell them to think about what they’d done. i’m not really one of those new-age moms. you know the ones. you see the kid hanging upside down from the rafters with spaghetti in his hair and a feral glint in his eye and his parents are all like, “now rainriver moonbeam, what did mommy tell you about expressing your emotions negatively? i think you need a timeout to get in touch with this bad karma!”
a timeout was just as much for me as it was for them. it allowed me a few minutes to regroup when realizing my 4 year old had just poured pancake syrup into the CD player because, hey, the little tray is round and it looks like a pancake.
so i’m thinking. i should be allowed to carry a timeout chair with me everywhere i go. this is really the only thing that will insure i stay out of jail. i think i should be allowed to put people in timeout at will regardless of age, sex, or station in life. it’s for their own good.
and mine.
you just think about what you’ve done.
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You can come out when you’ve decided to behave like a good little girl.
I think I’d probably spend a lot of time on that chair myself at the moment
aw anji. i won’t let you go in the chair! i’ll give you a lolly instead and even let you stay up late to watch cartoons!
ishmael however. he’ll probably never see life outside that chair again.