You're killing me. Or am I killing me?

Let me a create a little picture for you.  It's 8 am.  The morning has been pleasant: up early, kids fed, a movie is playing in the car, Anna is strapped into her carseat.  This part is the best part.  She calls to me "Mom!  Mom!  Guck.  I guck."  I respond with a smile, "No honey, you're not stuck, you're in your carseat." 

We arrive at the kindergarten at 8:30.  We get out and make it through the doors and waabam!  Anna is no longer 'guck,' she is running full board down the hallway, ignoring any attempts of mine to try and control her.  She steals kids' binkys.  She hits little boys playing with trucks.  She colors on papers that are neatly waiting for their actual owner.  She drains the wall mounted automatic hand sanitizer dispensers of every last drop they hold.  She screams bloody murder any time I try and corral her.  Lord have mercy.  This kid is killing me. 

Or am I killing me?  I realize that some of this is my fault.  I have become far more lazy in my discipline then I ever have been.  The big girls are really quite obedient and lovely girls.  And I know that that is due in large part to diligent consistent discipline.  Now, Anna really is a pistol, I'm not just saying that.  But I have got to step it up.  I just have to make up my mind to do it.  I also really need to get back to reading the basics in my old standbys like Parenting is Not for Cowards, Dare to Discipline, The Strong Willed Child,  BabyWise II, etc.  Time however, is not on my side.  I've been contemplating getting up at 5 (and if you know me, you know that I do not get up early) just to find some more time.

For now I'm off to go face more embarrassment at the hands of a two year old.

Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.  Proverbs 22:6

The Culprit