Sophie’s first dream

Sophie finally has the language skill to tell me about her dreams. Two nights ago, around 1 am, she woke up distraught, and told me this dream:

“Kitty-cat spoon. No kitty no. My spoon. Mine!”

That’s her dream: the cat ran away with her spoon. It’s pretty wonderful, somehow, that she can finally tell me more of what’s in her head.

But it’s also part of her “Mine mine” phase. Lately, my lovely daughter has been absolutely obnoxious when playing with friends. Whenever Mila or Gracie or Macy or Keegan picks up a toy, Sophie wants that exact toy, immediately. “Mine!” she shouts, and if that doesn’t cause her friend to relinquish the toy, she throws herself face-down on the ground and commences a princess tantrum.

Most of her friends quickly turn over the coveted cup or ball or whatever, convinced that it’s not worth such a dramatic tantrum, and thus the cycle gets reinforced.

I’m not quite sure how to respond. I try to ignore tantrums when we’re alone. I try to model generous behavior. I’ve had some success asking Sophie to choose which toy to give to Mila or whomever. I’ve had very little success informing Sophie that she’s being rude and ridiculous. I realize that it’s impossible to reason with a two-year-old, but I keep trying, because I also realize this: despite all my adoration of her, my two-year-old is not perfect.

But she’s still pretty fantastic. It’s like a poem: “Kitty-cat spoon. No kitty no. My spoon. Mine!”


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