Parenting Mistake # 6,734

I bought the duck.

I wasn't going to, and the fact that I did has been stuck in my craw for 24 hours now. I caved. I was weak. And now I'm just pissed at myself.

Jason and I have always made it a point to not spoil Ainsley with material things. We get annoyed by those kids who think every time they go to a store they have to come back with a toy. We also think Ainsley is enough of a whiner as it is without us giving in to her to shut her up. We don't want to reward that kind of behavior.

So I've gotten really good at saying no. And since Ainsley still thinks there's a chance she will get what she wants when she asks over and over, even though we haven't rewarded that behavior (we're hoping it's a stage she's going through, testing the limits of our patience), I say no A LOT.

Yesterday we checked out the clearance sale at Bath and Body Works so I could stock up on hand soap. That's all we were on there for. But on the way to the wall o' soap, we passed, like, 30 bins full of colorful rubber duckies. Ains has this thing for rubber duckies; her mamaw brought her two back from her last trip to Florida that have little sensors on the bottom that make the ducks light up when they're in the water, and Ainsley thinks those are just the coolest things in the world at bath time. I won't lie; I think they're pretty cool, too, and Sunday night's bath used to be a "lights-out" bath so she and I both could ooh and aah over the light show in our own bathtub. But as magically-lighted ducks will do, the juice ran out and only one duck works now, and that one is now about as bright as a lightning bug at noon.

So of course Ainsley asked for a new rubber duck, and of course I said no. She asked again, on the grounds of her old ones not lighting up anymore. I was quick on my feet and pointed out that the ones in the bins don't light up at all; they're not "special". To which she replied that she was tired of ducks that light up anyway and just wanted one to float and squeak in the tub.

After our fifth round, Ainsley crossed her arms and said, "My daddy wouldn't tell me no."

Who is she kidding? I actually laughed out loud. Her daddy not only would have told her no, but would have carried her out of the store if she kept asking a hundred times like she was doing with me. And I would have taken her out of the store, too, except that I was a woman on a mission for Tropical Passionfruit-scented bargain hand soap.

I finally gathered up my allowance of assorted soap bottles and headed to the register. Once Ainsley saw that the end was near, she said, "Please say, 'I guess you can have a duck.' "

Damn. That sounded like me. But I don't give in for material things, I swear. When she wants to do something, like walk up to the park, I will say, "We'll see" first and then if she's been good say something like, "I guess we can go." She's got me figured out. I will have to change up my reliable mommy-isms.

I stuck to my guns and told her no for what I thought would be the last time. I wasn't counting on the sales lady taking Ainsley's side.

"Are you sure you don't want a duck?" she cooed as we dropped the hand soap on the counter. "It says they're $2 on the signs, but they just got marked down to $1. What color do you like?" she proceeded to put the glass bowl of ducks at the register within Ainsley's grasp. Ains looked at her like she was Cinderella's fairy godmother and started jumping up and down over the pretty, pearly-white rubber ducks.

Mortified and stunned, I said something like, "I guess you can have a duck," handed over my credit card, and confirmed to my kid that you do get what you want if you whine long enough about it and get a pretty sales lady on your side.

As Ainsley squeaked it the whole ride home and for the remainder of our evening, I thought of taking it away. She learned a bad lesson there. And the squeaking was driving me nuts. But I guess that's what I deserve for giving in.

I've been replaying the scene over and over in my mind since then, kicking myself and analyzing the exact moment I went soft so it doesn't happen again. And Ainsley and I talked about it today, and I told her it's her "no whining" duck and that she only gets to play with it in the tub if she has had a relatively whine-free day and only if she doesn't ask me for anything else for a while.

And only if she will share it with me during my weekend mommy-time bubble baths. It is a cute little thing, even if it doesn't light up.