Good.

"Sonja, STOP putting that on Haven's FACE. NOW." 


My teeth clenching, my voice raising. Breathe.  Breathe again.  Again.  No amount of reasoning and patience seems to get this request through to a two-and-a-half-year-old child.  I realize as I'm doing the dishes (I loathe doing the dishes) that tears are falling into the water, and they're mine.  


"What's wrong, Mama?"
"Mama's frustrated, Sonja."
"Mama's frustrated? Good."


And I laugh, as I should at such a statement, because it's adorable.   She will say "good" to anything these days.  


"Who are you talking to Mama?"
"Oh, some people are just really bad drivers."  (I won't repeat what I actually said to that driver.)
"Really bad drivers? Good."


"What's that Mama?"
"It's an ambulance going to help someone who might be hurt."
"Someone might be hurt? Good."


It's more an affirmation that I've answered her (many) questions than an actual commentary on the event, and I have started phrasing my responses in such a way that hearing her say "good" at the end of her parroting will be even more enjoyable.  

But back to the frustration.  I've had to start letting go of trying to change the way Sonja plays with Haven and just take on a supporting role.  Be there with them and for them and not depend on the judgment of a toddler to decide the best way to play with her baby sister.  Her conduct is a reflection of my guidance.  Why has it taken me six-and-a-half months to realize this?