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Our sweet little baby is heavy in the tantrum phase* and the other night, at approximately 3:30am, she was so angry that by jumping and screaming she gained enough momentum to hurl herself out of her crib, landing headfirst on our hardwood floor. (We assume our downstairs neighbor, who hates us, was too tired to get out of bed and bang her ceiling in protest. It was quite the thud, following by quite the boom boom boom of her scared father running to help her.)

So while I’ve been trying to teach and mold and shape our little girl from the very beginning, the need for discipline is now fully upon us. Levi and I differ in our approaches. He thinks we should do what we can to make her happy; happy babies grow up to be happy people. “Levi, she has refused to eat anything all day. Please don’t give her an entire piece of cake.”

“Oh, but she’ll love it,” he says as he hands her a spoon.

“Levi, she knows that if she cries, you’ll give her whatever she wants.”

“But she’s crying,” he says. He’s confused by my comment.

I, on the other hand, think we should do what we can to teach her control. “Rebecca,” he says, “she’s just a baby.”

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