I planned to post about the amazing strides Muffin Man took this week in becoming a big boy but...well, I'll let you decide for yourself.
On Tuesday he was having some trouble listening. I had to threaten him with (GASP!) no chips. You'd think by now he'd know Mommy means what she says, but no. So, no chips. "I want chips!" Meltdown central. Face Down. On the floor. Did I care? Did I waver? I did not? Did Mr. Spock? Not on your tin-type. We were strong.
After about 5 minutes, he calmed down and started playing. Mr. Spock went on making dinner, I set the table. Suddenly, I was hugged around the legs. Looked down into the big brown eyes of my son. "Mommy, I'm listening. Don't make me sad anymore". Awwwww."Can I have chips?"
Manipulative little tyke, isn't he?
"Maybe after dinner if you LISTEN."
"Okay."
I've been worked, haven't I?
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Wednesday was a whole different day. MM woke up full of sunshine. Mr. Spock picked him up from daycare at lunchtime to go to the mall for haircuts and kabobs. Now, every time he's has been to Cartoon Cuts, MM has cried and insisted on sitting on one of our laps during the whole procedure. As soon as the Wiggles are on the tv, he calms down and allows Mr. Tran to cut his hair, but up until then it's like pulling teeth.
Not this time. This time, according to Mr. Spock, Muffin Man boldly strode through the mall. Got right into the barber's chair and acted like the whole thing was no big deal. By the time Mr. Spock's own hair was cut, MM was happily holding on to a lollipop and asking for lunch.
MM did a good job of listening all day and MS and I were very smugly deciding that, no, we hadn't been worked the day before. On the contrary, we had done the working and a good job we'd done of it.
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Fast forward to tonight. Nuclear meltdown. Bedtime. "I don't want to go to bed! I want my pizza!" (he'd refused to eat it. Honestly.) Face down. On the floor. Shrieking. Eventually, of course, he calmed down. And I told him Goodnight Moon and the Going to Bed Book and a list of people who love him and patted his back. "I love you, Muffin Man." "I love you, too."
Awwwww....
But now I'm pretty sure it was him working us on Tuesday.
Through My Glasses, Dorkily
13 years ago
6 comments:
You're being worked. LG tries this routine with monotonous regularity, just to see if it will still work. "I'm sorry, Mama!"
"Thank you, sweetheart."
"Now can I have [such and such]?"
"No."
"But Mama!" (Eyes well up. Bats eyelashes.) "I said sorry!"
That's what I thought (sigh.) and we were so proud of ourselves. Ah well...
They do know how to work the eyelashes don't they?
My kids have all got the big brown eyes and long dark eyelashes. And they all know how to manipulate me.
I'm lucky that they are nice kids, or I'd be in trouble.
AAAAAAAAAAH, the young version of manipulation. Here's the teenage version:
Mom, I love you. You are SO cool. I'm glad I have the relationship with you that I have. Some of my friends don't like their mothers. We're so open with eachother. Are you using the car tonight?"
AAAAAAAAAAH, the young version of manipulation. Here's the teenage version:
Mom, I love you. You are SO cool. I'm glad I have the relationship with you that I have. Some of my friends don't like their mothers. We're so open with eachother. Are you using the car tonight?"
Ooh, Yankee Transplant, that's one I can wait for.
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