He Thinks his Mother Shoplifts…
I’m slowly coming out of my iPhone induced stupor. Um, folks, the iPhone is pretty awesome — not the least of which is that I feel rather cool that I have one. I’m texting like a 15 year old girl (IDK, my BBF…. — oh, how I hate that commerical) and I may stroke it on occasions, just cause.
Anyway, back to the stories of my life — because you (and I’m totally looking at you Alison) might think I’m interesting. And what would you know, I DO have a story…
The weather has shifted here in Snarkville. It seems that our 6 months of dry ended with a day of water falling from the sky. With the water came a 20 degree drop in temperatures and the mornings in Snarkville are down right, um, chilly. So, last week, while Prince was away, one morning was cold enough for a jacket. I grabbed it out of the closet and proceeded to offer it to the shivering child. Um, NO, he declares. “I don’t want to wear *THAT* jacket.”
I admit it, I was tired and not in the mood for a fight, so I insisted on long sleeves and kept on moving. This past week, we (Prince and I) spent 4 of 5 days fighting with Duke to wear the dang jacket. It was not pretty. Finally (since apparently I’m both slow and I’m a little hooked on the parentheses today), I asked Duke, “Why don’t you want to wear this jacket?” “Mama, I wear a red jacket.”
Lightbulb goes on over my head. You see, the Queen Mum and Dad bought Duke a wonderful RED jacket about two years ago with his name on it. He LOVED this jacket — he wore it until it was a short sleeved belly shirt; and then begged to wear it more. I’ve since hidden it from him as I don’t have the heart to part with something he loved so much — but hello, he can not be seen wearing it outside anymore. I had bought him a perfectly lovely, navy blue jacket. Apparently, I did not get the memo that the Duke wears only red jackets.
So, on Friday, I got Duke to agree to wear the blue one if we went to look for a red one this weekend. OK. (Yippie, the sun shone and the angels sang — the boy walked out of the house in a jacket with a minimal fight.)
Yesterday, I wandered around the mall doing some random shopping and walked past a kid’s clothing store. I asked Duke, do you want to see if they have a red jacket for you? YES!!! Great.
We walk in, we search and find two options. I hold the first lovely item up (a half red and half blue jacket) — it was totally refused. The second one (not available in toddler sizes at all) was red and white and well, fairly perfect. I found the smallest size and offered it up. Duke’s heart soared out his chest and he was thrilled.
“Ok, let’s try it on and if it fits we will get it.”
With a straight and very serious face: “No, *YOU* need to go pay for it.”
“Um, I’m not buying it unless it fits.”
“I’m not wearing it until *YOU* pay for it.”
Houston, we have a problem.
(Yes, the jacket fits. Yes, I paid for it. No, I didn’t buy it without trying it on first. Adults win.)
September 23rd, 2007 at 3:31 pm
I was hoping for that last line. Go, Mom! Teach’im that now, and it’ll be easier when he’s a teen.
And thank you for looking at me. I’m looking right back atcha. More, said the greedy reader, more!
September 23rd, 2007 at 4:15 pm
OK, Alison, will it really be easier when he’s a teen? You’ve raised both boys and girls, so maybe it’s different with boys, but both of my girls were very easy and agreeable (mostly) when they were Duke’s age. Now it’s a VERY different story. We had the red jacket argument two winters ago, and the only red jacket we found was at Land’s End, and it was a boy’s jacket (though she didn’t figure that out). Now of course all the cute girly winter accessories are in pink, and clash horribly.
September 23rd, 2007 at 7:34 pm
The lad had a similiar affliction with red clothing. For a while it is all he would wear. I finally had to stop buying red stuff for him so it looked like he had more than 1 shirt!
September 23rd, 2007 at 10:57 pm
Easier for him to accept that when Mom says no, it’s no, if that’s the way it’s always been? Absolutely. As for the rest, little kids are more physically demanding, and older kids require a lot more creativity and thinking about what motivates them–so that you can come up with consequences that mean something to them. Which will most likely not be the same as what motivates their siblings (thus the constant need for creativity). This one can’t wait to get her license, that one would rather bag it and just go everywhere on his bike, this one can’t be torn away from playing their instrument, that one never practices if they can help it, they’re all different.
But when Mom says no with that you-are-dead-meat-if-you-ask-me-again look, it’s no! Assuming Mom has learned to fight only the battles worth fighting over.
Okay, to do a better job of answering Niki’s question: I found the girls easier to raise as teens in that, if they were mad at you, you knew it and you knew exactly what they were upset about, because at their worst moments they’d be screaming it at the top of their lungs. (Even if that wasn’t really what was bugging them, and they hadn’t figured it out yet.) But the boys would just get sullen and withdrawn, and you’d go in their rooms and play this guessing game, trying to draw them out. Best method, I found, both the boys and the girls but especially the boys, was to make a dessert they really like, and then go serve it to them past their bedtimes. Somehow a good late snack together, one-on-one, helps them open up and tell you about their life.
By 17 or 18, they all start to turn into these delightful people you don’t want to let ever leave, and then, they leave.
But eventually they bring even more children home with them, and you get to throw a really big party in celebration, complete with, you know, rings, and a cake to serve, oh, 100 or so, and everybody will be opening up and talking to each other till all odd hours…
One down, three to go.
September 23rd, 2007 at 11:01 pm
Land sakes, look at the time. Did someone feed me dessert or what? Sorry, Patricia, I wasn’t trying to take over your blog!