Parenting Tips

“Be patient!”, A tip for advice

From the early childhood of my child, it is clear to me, I came out deeply marked. I remember the anxiety of visiting extended family.

At every Christmas / Easter or other event that meant the gathering of the people, I always went with a heavy heart. There is nothing in this world that everyone can understand, such as raising children. Then follow the tips. They know no better than to give advice in any aspect of children. Nothing, I tell you!

Mine, for example, was flawed because it was “pampered and capricious.”

He wanted to sit alone with me and eat nothing. As those around me were, I would have wanted to put my mother back in her womb instead, I tell you. What else were they lying about when they caught him that I had gone to Bucharest and left him with them! What else threatened to steal her toys or blouse from her that she was beautiful and so on!
“Yeah Al that sounds pretty crap to me, Looks like BT aint for me either.”

Another big topic of discussion was food.

Neither my mother, nor my grandmother, nor my mother-in-law, did anyone like the fact that mine did not rush to food like a lion in the antelope in the herd’s tail.

According to my grandmother’s calculations, at least the child should have eaten buckets of soup and mountains of steak every day. He should have screamed for food, asked, taken from the table. And beware, if he doesn’t do that, I should take action and not leave him without food! “Do you want me to eat it?” I annoyed them every time I heard this with the “uneaten child.”

The baby is 10 years old now. My grandmother, God forgive her, is no longer alive, but I would have loved so much for her to be with us now and see him. That’s how I would have liked the other extreme to be caught.

My child, from the whims of the nation, has become the eater of the earth. He must eat well and well. He doesn’t mess with 2 sarmales.

It’s 8-10, it depends. The scariest part is that she’s starting to cook, so it’s not up to me anymore. Cook and eat. He looks at recipes on Youtube, he’s a big fan of Jamilla, he looks at Chefs at Knives, he documents himself and cooks the same way he eats – that is, a lot and well.

Yesterday, for example, he made stuffed peppers. At one point, I tell you honestly, I fell asleep. The only day I can afford an afternoon nap is Sunday. And I insist on having it because I sleep very little, usually, and I’m scared of its importance for health. So I slept for almost two hours yesterday. When I woke up, it was almost 18. The child could not see or hear.
He was quiet on the couch, on one side, like whales stranded in the waves.
“My stomach hurts,” he tells me.
– How many peppers did you eat?
– 7.

I was sincerely glad that I discovered it whole and did not explode on the walls so that I would have to collect it with a cloth.

I told her I was glad she didn’t bang.

In the evening, I talked to my mother on the phone and told her. Eh, that’s where the quarrel started.
“Stop letting him eat!” Stop feeding him! It must not be left.

And that’s how I reminded him how things were 5-6 years ago, when he ate very little at all, and the whole nation was talking to me. I told them even then to be patient, that she would eat in this life, she just had to get hungry. I answered them the same way when he was a year old and they asked me why he doesn’t speak because Cutărescu’s son from the back of the village is also a year old and he speaks – I told them that he still has nothing to say. Which is what happened. It’s the same now.

He will be satisfied with the food, but he is not yet full.

"Be patient!", A tip for advice

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