It's all so quiet now. An hour ago we were at loggerheads. She was screaming, crying and throwing herself on the floor because ...
She wanted to shut herself in her bedroom.
Our doors are very heavy fire doors that take tremendous strength to open. Little fingers can get caught and, oh, I don't have to explain it to you, do I? You know what I mean. And anyway, once you've said 'No,' there's no reneging, is there?
"I-want-to-close-my-bedroom-door," she sobs.
"No." I say.
"I said 'No!'"
"I close it!"
"Why do you want to close it, Celeste?"
"I-want-it-closed!" She hasn't got a hold of the 'why' question yet, which I should be grateful for because when she has, there'll be no let up. Although, once the relentless questioning years begin, at least I'll have Google.
I show her Barbie's arm, which I accidentally caught in the window when shutting it yesterday - she's got a rather nasty scar. Oops.
"That's what happens when you get your arm shut in the door. Do you want to have an arm like Barbie?"
"No," a shake of the head.
"OK, so leave the door open, please."
"But I want to close my bedroom door."
For fuck's sake!!
She lets out a great big piercing scream.
"Right, sit on the Chill-Out Chair and calm down." But the Chill-Out Chair is in the open-doored bedroom.
"I-want-to-close-my-bedroom-door." And the strop continues.
Just ignore her till she's screamed herself bored.
A few moments/minutes/hours later, she appears at the front room door.
"I want my Mummy."
Aw, come here.