Pardon Me, Miss... Your Threat is Showing.

Dear Sweetness,
It's so fascinating to watch you reach different milestones.  Some of them are social.  Others are verbal.  Others are physical.

You've recently picked up on the "threat" option for inter-personal communication.  I'm sure it's from the elementary school aged kids that are there in the afternoon at your daycare.

You have the concept generally correct.  "When I don't get what I want, I will threaten something worse".  However, your execution leaves something to be desired.  Mostly from your side.  You don't realize that the threat is actually supposed to be something your audience will dread.

I give you an example:

You love trains.  Mama and Daddy and Nathan are going to ride the little local train up in the canyon in a couple of weeks.  Since I told you we had tickets and were going to do that in "14 sleeps", you've been using the potential of NOT riding the train to ME.

If you don't get what you want, you huff, fold your arms and say, "Fine then!  I can't wanna ride a train wit Mama and Daddy then!"

O...K...

You don't realize that Mama and Daddy really don't care about riding the train.  On a scale from "1 to huge deal in OUR lives", it's on the "1 side."

If this were a card game and you said, "Do you have 'Not ride the train'?" I'd say, "Go fish".

That's just how it rolls when you're old, honey.

Similarly, last night you were your evil alter-ego, Señor Grumpy Pants.

Now, mind you, there have been occassions when you're having a total melt-down when Mama will say, "Should we say a prayer?" and I pick you up and hold you on my lap and we say a little prayer and ask for help to calm you down and help you feel better.

Now last night, Señor Grumpy Pants decided to THREATEN Mama.... WITH A PRAYER.

You said, "Fine then!  I'll fold my prayers!" and you huffed loudly and folded your arms, closed your eyes and bowed your head and said, very curtly and with staccato precision,  "Thank. you. for. my. Mama.  Thank. you. for. my. Daddy.  Thank. you. for. my. food.  Help. me. a. not. be. so. GRUMPY.  A-MEN!!"  and then you looked at me triumphantly with a "take that, woman!" glare.

I hope you didn't notice how fiercely I was biting my lip.

I said, "Wow... you SHOWED me!  Mama will think twice before making you dinner again.  Please don't ever PRAY in my general direction again, Nate!"

You gave me a smug look.

I had to walk away so I could laugh.

I know someday, you're going to be all attitude.  Someday you'll recognize that words hurt and that people who live under the same roof can make life hell for other people in the family.

For now, I will take your toddler threats.  I am so grateful to have you as my son, even if it means I occasionally have to parent Señor Grumpy Pants.

I love you,
Mama