|Sweet Faced Boy Hard at Work.|
It occurred to me yesterday- as my angelic child sat in his stroller while I had a tooth filled and was all apple pie and sweetness and then as soon as his butt hit the car seat his head spun Exorcist style and he growled at me his distaste for his car seat-this child has two distinct personalities: The Sweet Faced Boy and The Generalissimo. He decides which one at will and then he just speaks in facts to suit his argument. There is almost no winning with him.
I could write for days about it and maybe because he is the last one, I have a much different perspective on it than with the others. (Mostly, I laugh.) I just hope it doesn’t turn around to bite me in the mama ass later.
Here are a few gems from the last few days.:
“Mom, I want to sit in a big boy car seat. I AM BIG!”
“I know you’re big, but you have to be four.”
“I am four.”
“Really, you got to Mrs. S’s class like your brother and you have to help with dishes?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
Boy one. Mom Zero
“Mom, I want that.”
“Honey you don’t need that it’s a bottle for babies.”
“I’m a baby.”
“Really? In the car you just said you were big.”
“Oh, so you should go home after this and take a nap? Babies take naps.”
“Yep, I’m super tired.” (Rests head on shopping cart.)
Boy two. Mom still zero.
“UGH. MOM!” (from back of car.)
“Whoa, what is it?”
“I hate this song. Turn it.”
“Sorry, dude it’s my car and I like this one.”
“No it’s my car!”
“Really you bought it.”
“Yep, with my own money.”
Boy Three. Mom still zero.
“Mom I want Burger King.”
“Yeah, we got a treat at the store so no Burger King”
“YES! BURGER KING AND TREATS.”
Rather than reason I went with a new tactic.
“We spent the Burger King Money on the treat.”
“UGH! I have my own money. See, right here.”
“OK then hand it up here and I’ll swing by Burger King.”
“How much? It’s in my wallet and I gotta get enough out.”
This went on for a while. I never went to Burger King but he legitimately seemed confused as if he had really handed me money to buy him food.
I’m not sure how to score this one. I think we both lose and somehow win too.
“UUUHHH! MOOOOM!” (from back of car-seemingly randomly.)
“A,) I don’t like you very much.”
“Is there a B?”
“Ugh. B is that I STILL DON’T LIKE YOU VERY MUCH.”
“Well.” (Sometimes that’s all I got.)
“But I don’t hate you.”
You might be surprised to read that I give myself a point for this one. We’ve been working to eliminate I hate you from his vocabulary so I actually took this one as a small victory.
It’s the little things that count when you’re raising someone that is possibly smarter than you or at least a teensy bit crazy.
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