I raise my voice. I might slap a hand if there is danger. I put on my angry face. Sometimes they persist. Sometimes it feels like there is nothing more I can do...to make them happy. To make them get along. To make them stop the high pitched incessant screaming. Timeouts be damned.
So, I take them to their room. Mommy needs a break. They need a break. My brain needs a break.
Suddenly, I begin to bake cookies. It will make them happy. It will make me happy. And if they aren't...then I'll know it's not me. 'Cuz what kid doesn't like some freshly baked cookies?! At that point, what more could I possibly do? And at least then there will be cookies.
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