In Case You're Keeping Score

Last night when Sara decided she was done with dinner, she grabbed a handful of her food and threw it all over the floor.  Steve and I were both immediately on her case.  We took her out of her chair and told her she'd need to clean up her mess.  Simple lesson, right?  Not so much.  Tears ensued.  Sobbing, in fact.  Sara absolutely could not believe that she was going to be reduced to picking food up off the floor.  She cried, begged, and pleaded to be picked up and removed from the scene of the crime.  It was finally decided that if she refused to pick up her mess, she would need to go to bed.  Steve went and put her in bed, and then a few minutes later went back to ask if she was ready to clean up her mess.  She wasn't. 

A short while later, Steve went and had another chat with Sara.  This time, apparently, she was ready to face her consequence.  Standing in the kitchen, I saw Sara come running from her room straight to the mess at her chair.  She began rapidly picking up bits of her meal and walking them to the trash can.  She did so with spunk; there was no reluctance in her performance whatsoever.  Oh, my word.  I was filled with unequivocal and immeasurable pride.  I thought my heart would absolutely burst.

About this same time, as Sara was in the throes of dutifully cleaning her mess, I noticed Steve walk over to the box of donut holes that I purchased in an unforgivable moment of weakness at the grocery store over the weekend.  Sara was not far behind him.  He looked over at me and said, "I might have used a bargaining tool."

Kid = 1 ... Parents = 0