It started a few weeks ago when I mentioned that kings have a lot of treasure and instantly something clicked inside him. Now he often tells me he wants to be a king when he grows up and will elaborate in great detail:
When I'm king, I'll sleep in a...giant king bed.
And in the day time I'll sit in a...king chair.
Everything will be soft and cushiony, my king bed, my king chair, and even the floor and ceiling of my palace.
You can bring me green jewels.
And Judah can bring me silver jewels.
And daddy can bring me gold jewels.
And I'm going to be a good king.
I'll keep some money for myself.
And I'll give a little bit to the children.
And I'll give a little bit to the poor - small jewels, not my silver and gold ones.
And there you have, the benevolent reign of Noah.
But in reality, being with Noah is more like being under a reign of terror.
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| Noah on his king bed - well, actually my king bed - contemplating a cushy life |
Noah has entered a very inflexible and grumpy phase of his life. Everything displeases him and his displeasure lasts for hours.
Just yesterday he dropped a sticker in the toilet while he was pooping and insisted that I get it back for him. When I explained that it was soiled and that I would absolutely not get it back for him, he exploded in rage.
A few days before that, he asked me to hand him his breakfast bar. I opened the wrapper and handed it to him and he immediately melted down in rage. No! No! No! I didn't want you to open the wrapper!!!!! he screamed while I stood there annoyed and perplexed.
But don't you want to eat it? I asked.
No! I wanted to just hold it! And NOW I want to eat.
Okay, well just eat it now.
No! You opened the wrapper too soon!!!!!!
Somehow that extra 30 seconds of exposure to the elements rendered that bar unfit to eat for King Noah. Noah promptly asked me for a new one. In horror, I realized that that was the last bar in the box and told him so.
For the next 5 hours, I kid you not, Noah repeatedly demanded that I go to the store and buy him a new box of the exact same kind of breakfast bar, refusing any substitute food. The kid would NOT let it go.
When Noah kvetches about something, which he does many times a day, he has a standard script that goes something like this:
I'm sad Mommy. I'm going to be sad forever. Even in God's new world, I'll still be sad. My whole day is sad. (repeat on endless loop).
And so, when I found myself near a drugstore later that day, I popped in with Noah to buy him his stupid breakfast bar. Of course the little 'good parenting' voice inside my head was telling me - don't do this! You're giving into bad behavior! You're reinforcing that whining works! You're creating a monster!
But all the other parts of my brain were saying - oh good grief! LET IT JUST END!!!!!
And so I bought him his bar. He asked for me to hand it to him. I gingerly handed it over like a live grenade - WITH the wrapper still intact.
He asked me to open the wrapper for him.
I double-checked and confirmed that indeed - you want me to open the wrapper for you? Right now? Or later?
Right now, he said.
And even then, I tensed my shoulders and sucked in my breath post-traumatically as I tore open the wrapper.
He smiled and reached for the bar and ate a few bites.
And I lived to serve another day.
2 comments:
Awww!! Poor mama! Laughed out/awww'd in sympathy at this post. Seeing a bit of this in my own future. Mealtimes are a bit of a struggle, and there's a lot of "Get me this! No, THIS!" Hope you are getting a break with school starting!
Thanks Tam! Yes, gird yourself for the wonderful world of toddlerdom! It's a trip, lemme tell ya. You will start to really love wine :-D
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