I am an idiot. Did you know that?? Oh yeah.
I know absolutely nothing. Not the color of the sky. Not what’s for dinner. Not how to make a dog behave. Not how to spell A-P-P-L-E. Not how to make a six year old behave.
It’s been occurring gradually. At first it was little questions, like this:
Me: Oliver, please go take a shower.
Oliver: Can I take a bath instead?
Me: What time is it?
Oliver: 7:45
Me: Since that’s 15 minutes before bedtime, no. Take a shower.
Then it became help.
Me: Tallulah, please pick up your room.
Oliver: Yeah, Tallulah! Go clean your room!
Tallulah:?!?!
Me: Oliver, I don’t really need your help.
But now it’s outright and open, Mom you are dumb as a stump and I must hold your hand and help you because obviously you don’t know what you’re doing.
Me: Oliver, please don’t roll on the floor with the dog – you’re encouraging bad behavior.
Oliver: (looks at me & continues to roll on the floor with the dog)
Me: (?!?!) Oliver! I asked YOU to stop that!
Oliver: (HUGE melodramatic sigh) Mom. He likes it.
Me: But I don’t.
Oliver: (HUGE melodramatic sigh) Mom. He’s having fun.
Me: But I’m not.
Oliver: (HUGER melodramatic sigh) Fine. I’ll go play my DS.
Me: (And I REALLY hope you’ll excuse this example of HORRIBLE parenting, but at this point it’s a complete credit to my self control that my hands are not around Oliver’s little pre-pubescent throat – you’re not seeing the smirk on his face, it’s INCREDIBLY annoying) OLIVER!! I WASN’T TRYING TO GET YOU TO NOT PLAY WITH THE DOG I WAS TRYING TO GET YOU TO PLAY WITH HIM CORRECTLY, BUT SINCE YOU OBVIOUSLY KNOW BETTER THAN I DO, GO AHEAD AND PLAY WITH HIM HOWEVER YOU WANT AND HE’LL GO AHEAD AND BITE YOU HOWEVER HE WANTS. BUT I HOPE THAT AT SOME POINT YOU MIGHT NOTICE THAT HE DOESN’T BITE ME THAT WAY, SO MAYBE, JUST MAYBE THE WAY THAT I TREAT HIM MIGHT HAVE SOME MERIT.
I don’t know where he gets these emotionally charged dramatic impulses from. I definitely need to ask his Grandma Maude - it's got to come from that side of the family.
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