She’s been to the pumpkin patch, to Zion’s Fall Fest, to daddy’s office for trick-or-treating, to her school’s trick-or-treating Fall Fest, and now we finally have Halloween at our doorstep. Ah, what a season. Let’s just say that Livia’s chocoholic parents are quite satisfied.

“Totoro’s at iUniverse. That his work name…”

Livia, deep in imagination, talking to the bathroom mirror about her father at work.

**For the full effect, here’s Livia’s statement phonetically: “Totowo’s at iVuniverse. Dat his work name…”

The Cookie Formerly Known as Chocolate Chip sits in crumbled chunks on Livia’s plate. Surprised she didn’t eat it, I ask what happened.

“I got all the chocolate chips out,” she says.

“Well, are you going to eat the rest of the cookie?”

“No. Just the chocolate chips.”

O-kay. There’s some serious chocolate-lovin’ going on in my house.

The other day when I picked Liv up from preschool she bemoaned the lack of chocolate pudding. I pressed her for more information and discovered they only served VANILLA pudding during snacktime that day.

Oh the horrors. Vanilla.

Me: Do you remember who gave you that toy?

Livia: Yep, Bean. [pause] Pretty cool, honh? Pretty cool, son!

Son? It’s like we just got off the basketball court where she schooled me something fierce, maybe slam-dunked a ball over my head or something. Liv’s hip with the lingo, yo. Son.

“Parents need to say what they mean, mean what they say.”

This is the title of John Rosemond’s parenting column in today’s Lincoln Journal Star. The family psychologist then states the importance of “no” meaning “no” when it comes to raising children.

Easier said than done. Seriously.

When I am running around the house, trying to get the day started, it is easier to repeat my instructions (“Livia, get your shoes on”) ten times rather than stop to make certain she obeys. Sometimes I just dislike being the enforcer–I’m a classic softie who would much rather cuddle and keep tensions low than watch my child erupt in anger and tears. But allowing Liv to disobey by not “saying what I mean and meaning what I say” is a dangerous thing and makes a mockery of my job as a parent. Furthermore, the longterm effects of disobedience for my daughter will lead to her destruction, not to a rich life for her and the people around her (Proverbs 19 speaks very clearly to this).

Enforcing instructions is time-consuming at this point. Really, it’s a fulltime job that requires forethought, planning and the patience of Mother Teresa. I can see why even good parents feel like running for the hills on challenging days.

Livia had just received a brand new purse this afternoon from her Nana by way of Jen Allen (thank you, Jen!). She delighted in showing me the multiple treats inside the little black bag: a packet of gum, a container with coins, and a small white pumpkin. Livia and her bags are a charming combo, I must admit. In retrospect, taking away her new purse was absolutely the right thing to do when she ignored my instructions and warnings (issued twice) while leaving Nana’s house. But that didn’t make it any easier, especially when her small voice apologized from her car seat on the ride home. I, once a small girl quite masterful at employing all manners of manipulations, was not surprised when this apology was followed by, “So, can I have my purse back now?” Heh. My struggle is not with grace, it is with sincere discipline. So no, she didn’t get the bag back. The consequences remain the same and Liv will be reunited with her latest acquisition tomorrow morning.

God, give me strength to do this job. I now have the slightest of understandings of how you must feel when I disregard you. And the slightest of understandings of how much you still love me. Livia is the most beautiful object lesson I’ve ever received.

My mother’s heart is gushing due to the adorable, and might I add brilliant?, voice behind me. The scene ain’t too bad either. Jeremy and Livia are on the couch and now they are reading books before bed. The voice, the babyish one of my three year old daughter, is “reading” the book she constructed in preschool yesterday:

Livia’s Book of One.

One smiley face.

She’s done with the book and proclaims that she is now Dash (from The Incredibles, God bless Pixar). Then, she begins reading once more:

Dash’s Book of One. And so on.

Adorable. Brilliant. Totally balances out all the naughty from earlier today. Heh.

…and geese. I took Livia to feed some ducks. “Some” ducks quickly turned into a lot of bold geese and I made a fast plan in my minds-eye that involved grabbing Liv and our lunch and heading for the hills in one swift motion. Fortunately, the geese didn’t get too close and I never had to fish my child from the murky green pond waters (there was a second plan involving a dramatic water rescue; what can I say? I’m a contingency-planner). Picnicking and feeding the ducks on a beautiful Friday afternoon was a delight. In moments like this, my three year old is just the person I want by my side.

She looked at me with a combination of expectancy and wide-open child’s delight.

“So. Should we do crafts?” Her shoulders shrugged and hands were up in the air in question. “…Or paint? Or blow bubbles?”

The Big Three had been listed. These weren’t any activities she was presenting to her very weary, still-in-recovery mom; they were were Big Three. The Best Three. The Only Three Activities that could possible appeal to an active 3 year old on a sunny afternoon.

My Big Three were sleep, lay around contemplating sleep, and maybe a bit o’ television.

I’m beginning to think that Liv and I have different goals for our days. ; )