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February 6, 2007
I Think I Can, I Think I Can
Then again, maybe I can’t.
My 3-year-old is going through a new stage. Whenever I ask him to do something, he looks up at me with wide, guileless eyes and very earnestly says, “I can’t, Mama.”
Only, he draws out the word can’t into two syllables: I caaa-ant, Mama.
It doesn’t matter what I’m asking him to do, the response is always the same.
I caaa-ant.
Sam, come eat your dinner.
I caaa-ant.
Sam, do you want to go to the playground?
I caaa-ant.
Sam, would you like Mama to buy you a pet monkey?
I caaa-ant.
Clearly, it’s time to get tricksy with him. Sam has two other favorite conversations, and I have decided to exploit these in order to bend him to my will.
(This is what I’ve been reduced to: plotting how to manipulate a 3-year-old into doing what I want him to do.)
The first one is when I say, “Who wants to ____?”
It doesn’t matter what the blank is -- take a bath, eat a bag of candy, donate a kidney -- Sam’s response is always the same. He jumps to his feet, waves his arms wildly in the air and shrieks, “ME, ME, ME!!!!”
The second is that Sam loves being given alternatives to choose from. For example, if he's being recalcitrant about going to bed, I’ll say, “Okay. Either you can get into bed and go right to sleep or you can get into bed, and I’ll read a story before you go to sleep. Which one will it be?”
And, more often than not, Sam will choose wisely.
So, this morning, I told Sam to brush his teeth.
"Mama, I caaa-ant."
So I went to tactic number two: “Who wants to brush their teeth?”
Sam looked at me contemptuously, as if to say, Yeah, like that’s going to work, lady. I’m three, not stupid.
On to tactic number three: “Would you rather brush your teeth . . . or be force fed a pound of liver?”
Sam looked me dead in the eye, and, without hesitating, said, “The liver.”
“You’ve never even had liver. You don’t know awful it tastes,” I said.
He just shrugged and went back to playing with his trains. And I was left with the sinking realization that if someone here was being bent to the other’s will . . . that Sam wasn’t the one doing the bending.
Posted by Whitney at 6:00 AM | Comments (4)
Comments
Oh, Whitney, it's just the beginning. They get better at it as they get older.
The LC Eileen
Posted by: The LC Eileen at February 6, 2007 11:16 AM
And so it begins.
How many years/months/days/hours until he's off to school? :)
Posted by: Laura Fitzgerald at February 6, 2007 1:47 PM
Oh, LOL Whit! I know. We only think we run the place because they let us believe it. And I love the way you're so clever and kind about it. Around our house, this is the way I play the game:
"Get in that bathroom and brush your teeth this minute or so help me GOD you will be grounded until the END OF TIME."
Which, based on all the snow we're having here, looks to be somewhere around next Thursday. We'll see!
Posted by: Lani ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.literarychicks.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at February 6, 2007 3:12 PM
Whit -
wait until his answer is "whatEVER". And when you show dismay, he says - "What? I'm just trying to be cool."
Ha!
Posted by: Courtney at February 8, 2007 8:18 PM
