An Animal in a Trap

Strong-willed, exhibit 7,183:

My Zoe. She likes to do things on her own terms. She can be so cooperative and helpful, as long as it is her idea to be so. Which it often is. And sometimes, it is not.

As with most of parenting, and maybe all of life, transitions pose particular challenges. "Transition" usually means moving from something pleasant, like playing with her ponies, to something less pleasant, like using the potty. So she is not potty-trained yet, not because she could not be, but because it does not often suit her to make that transition.

But I have outwitted her in one particular arena.

Getting out of the bathtub is not a transition she loves. It's warm in the tub, and fun. It's cold in the bathroom, and getting out involves the work of getting dressed. If I just announce, "It's time to get out of the tub," I will surely encounter some resistance which, true, can be overcome by the force of the necessity of obedience, the threat (and the carryout) of discipline, and the like. But who wants to deal with all that at 7:00 in the evening, the time when my mind and body are crashing?

So instead, this is what I say. I kid you not, it works every time. "Zoe, are you an animal in a trap?" She nods shyly. "Oh, little animal," I say, "can you get out of that trap all by yourself, or do you need help?" Suddenly, that little animal shows me the way to get out of the trap/bathtub, slowly and carefully, and into the snuggly towel and the waiting arms of her Mama. I exclaim that it is such a clever little animal I have! She reveals to me what kind of animal she is, and we are both very pleased with ourselves.