New Mummy Blog: How Much Choice Should We Give Our Children?

My toddler is exerting her independence. She knows her own mind and isn't afraid to use it.

My own parents are finding it hilarious. "Oh, she's just like you," my mum says. "Little Miss Bossy. I wonder where she gets that from," grins my dad.

And of course I'm proud to be raising such a strong, smart little girl. Just because she's only two, I don't see why her opinions shouldn't matter.

It's just sometimes I wish she didn't have quite so many of them.

Maybe the problem is that her choices are not my choices. My input is not only ignored it positively unwelcome.

Getting dressed has become a battle. The outfit I've laid out for her is cast aside disdainfully. "I choose," she demands, as she rummages haphazardly through the drawer for the most headache-inducingly garish and least weather appropriate clothing she can find.

Given half the chance, I think she'd try and put on every item she owns all at once (except the original outfit picked out by me). Trying to wrestle her out of them is like trying to undress an octopus.  

It even goes as far as her nappies. I bought a pack of patterned pull ups, thinking they'd encourage her along her potty training way. Not so. She loves them so much that, at this rate, she'll happily wear them forever. There's little hope of getting her normal nappies on her any more.

This in itself isn't so bad. Where the problem lies is in the fact that the pack of pull ups comes with two different designs. Half the pack are Minnie Mouse and the other half are princesses. She only wants to wear the mouse ones. I have a drawerful of princesses piling up, but trying to get one on her triggers toddler fury and I have bigger battles to take on.

Toddlers are creatures of habit. Once I've offered her a choice once, she expects the same freedom to choose each time that same decision crops up. Take yoghurt, for example.

She was going through a Peppa Pig phase so we bought her a pack of Peppa branded yogurts as a treat. I let her see the whole packet because each pot had a different character on it and thought she might like to choose which one she'd like.

This has led to a series of demands from my daughter. Firstly, only the Peppa yoghurt will now do, there's no point buying a different brand and expecting them to be eaten.

Secondly, every time she has a yoghurt for pudding, we need to build an extra 10 minutes into the meal as she must examine each pot thoroughly before selecting which she wishes to eat that day.

I have become skilled in the art of complex negotiations for the time inevitably comes when the George Pig yoghurt has already gone and she's left with Suzy Sheep or Zoe Zebra. These bit part players are always the last to be picked as, quite simply, they just won't do.

Then there's the one 'special spoon' she wants to use at every meal. It's a beveled, pewter jam spoon with a heart on the handle that was a wedding present from a distant relative. At least it's getting some use now.

Obviously at the age of just two, she's not best placed to make the important decisions for herself. If she had it all her way, we'd spend every day at soft play, she'd never have to have a nap, dancing on the coffee table would be allowed and there would be cake for breakfast.

There are plenty of rules for her to follow. She has a strict routine, a healthy diet, good manners and a fledgling understanding of right from wrong. So where's the harm in allowing her the freedom to make some of the choices herself?

I've always thought I was doing a good thing, letting her make decisions and giving her room to develop and grow. But as I struggle to convince her for the third morning in a row that pyjamas are not suitable attire for nursery, I'm beginning to wonder if instead I might have inadvertently created a monster.

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