Same Old New Year

Well, I might as well start the new year off with a Ministry of Reality post. It’s a good thing I made no resolutions to be a perfect wife or parent (or even close); I had already muffed it twice before we had been out of bed an hour.

First up, a scolding for me: Jason and I had a minor scurfluffle over how time could/should be spent this morning. I had reacted poorly and knew it but just stubbornly didn’t want to get out of my frump. I started to say, “I wish I had responded better . . . ” and before I could add my “but I really want to do it my way,” Jason interrupted with a snappish “Yeah, I wish you had too.” And that just made me mad. So even though I hadn’t really been about to issue a real apology anyway, I seized the opportunity to be indignant and huff away with the pile of towels I had just so virtuously and sacrificially folded.

Simon, who had been oblivious to the exchange, followed me out into the hall and asked, “Mommy, what happened?” Completely convinced I had the high ground, however ill-gotten, I said as sweetly as I could, “Well, honey, your daddy made me mad, and now I’m just trying to cool down.” Totally backfired. Next thing I knew I was facing the wrath of my very earnest son: “No, Mommy. You’re being UNKIND. Daddy does NOT like to be fussed at, Mommy. Do NOT say that to Daddy.” And how could I not laugh at that little twerp, who was at least mostly right? There’s nothing like a precocious two-year-old to diffuse a ridiculous situation.

And then a lesson for Simon: He caught me on the staircase and asked very quietly, “Mommy, can I have a little bite of cake?” I turned to see that he clearly was asking for permission after the fact. Wise friends who have gone before me have warned me this day would come (and will again and again) and that the thing to do is not give them the opportunity to lie. But I forgot, and so I asked him, “Simon, did you already eat the cake?”

And then, for the first time that I can say for sure that he knew what he was doing, my son lied to me. He said, “No! I did not eat the cake.” And, wow, that sucked. I always thought that I would be angry when lied to (and I’m certain I will be in the future, when there’s more at stake than a pastry). But I wasn’t. I was hurt. And I suppose I’m still processing through this possibly inevitable, wicked milestone. This parenting gig is not for wimps.

The end of the story is that there was some tantruming (his, not mine this time) and some more unfruitful confrontation until I finally remembered the better approach. So when he calmed down (and stopped screaming, “I did not eat the cake! I did NOT!”). I took him in my lap and said, “Simon, I know you ate the cake. I’m not mad, but I want to talk to you about it.” And then we talked a bit about asking permission first and about lying. And then I said, “Simon, why did you eat the cake? Did you know you were not supposed to?” And he looked at me with those big eyes, as brown as the chocolate smeared at the corner of his lip, and said, “I ate the cake. It was mmm mmmm all down in my tummy. It was so tasty. ” And, you can guess the rest, I melted.