Like any three-year-old, my daughter goes through stages of being compliant, difficult, sweet, and plain rotten – quite often all in the same day. She doesn’t necessarily cycle through them either; it’s more like a crapshoot. Some days I’m rolling doubles and others the House is taking it to me hard.

Today she had one of her epic meltdowns and when she does this I like to let her get it all out: the hiccups, the sobs, the curl-up-in-a-ball-on-her-bedroom-floor drama, because sometimes we all just need a good cry, don’t we? And no one wants to deal with an emotionally constipated toddler. They are demon spawns.

Her initial reason for becoming so upset was that the show she had chosen to watch while I was in the shower had ended and she wanted me to put it on again. Normally not an issue for me, as I was doing my makeup and still had to dry my hair. (OMG, I know…I let my kids watch tv while I do things, but that isn’t today’s topic, so keep your hate mail, glass house.) The only problem was that her one-year-old sister also came in asking to watch something different. (Yes, one. Save it, sister.) Naturally, in the spirit of democracy I wanted to be fair and declared it was her little sister’s turn to pick.

Behold the threenage rage.

Her face contorted and she instantly melted into a fit of dramatic crying as she walked out of my room and into her own.

Whatever. She cries all the time…like an exceptional amount. About everything. I just went about my business, casually listening in (as moms do) while she continued her episode, periodically talking to herself.

Then I heard it.

“It’s not fair!”

Aww, no. Huh-uh. I don’t spend my days attempting to give my kids equal treatment, encouraging them to share with each other, and teaching them to take turns for her to just declare my perfectly justified decision was unfair.

I waltzed into her room and said, “It’s not FAIR?”

“No!”

“You think letting your sister have a turn at something isn’t fair, after I let you take your turn FIRST?”

“No!”

“Fine. You’re gonna see what ‘not fair’ IS. YOU don’t get to pick at all for the rest of the day. Only your sister gets to pick.” (Whether or not there would be more shows today remained to be seen. It’s the principle and the enormity to a young person of cutting them off of something for the rest of the day that’s the driving point.)

EPIC. Melt. Down.

Normally these things rub my nerves raw, but I was unfazed and went back to my business. She carried on for awhile and I was set on letting her get it all out.

Finally, when she couldn’t get a grip and pull herself together, she came to me, as she’s always done, for a hug to help her feel better. And I obliged.

As I held her and loved her and she became more calm, she took a stuttered breath, pulled away to look at me, and said something staggering.

“Mommy, I didn’t say, ‘It’s not fair,’ to you. I said, ‘It’s not fair,’ in my room.”

In the two-point-three seconds I stopped to consider what she had just said, a number of things immediately became apparent. One, toddlers do not understand that sound travels. Anyone who’s ever sat at the dinner table with one while she says something to one parent and then immediately turns to tell you the same exact thing knows this. Two, she did not directly disrespect me. Furthermore, she demonstrated that she knew it would have been wrong to say it to my face, so she consciously let it out in her own room.

In her own room.

She believed that because she was alone in a space that belongs to her, she was safe to blow off a little steam. And shouldn’t she have been? A kid’s bedroom should be her sanctuary; where she can go and feel free to cuss out her parents when she feels she’s been dealt an injustice. Where she can cry. Where she can declare something to be “unfair.” And without repercussion.

But because I was on a Mom kick and was determined to create a teachable moment, I violated this tiny little civil liberty of hers. Kids of any age should have some right to privacy, provided they’re not putting themselves in any danger. Just because she doesn’t yet understand that currently her privacy isn’t exactly “private,” doesn’t mean that I can’t at least honour her perception of it.

So, I revoked my punishment. But not without calmly revisiting what it means to be fair and how to act accordingly. She then happily went off to do some puzzles and I got to finish getting dressed in peace, content with feeling as though we’d both grown a bit.