Me: Why don’t you try that again, and talk to me like a nice person.
Carson: I’m NOT A PERSON! I’m a BIG BOY!
This morning I realized I too easily get sucked into trying to rationalize with a 3 year old. This is the conversation on the way to Bible study this morning:
C: AAAA! Waaaa! [insert general freaking out] I have crumbs all over me! The rice cake made crumbs on my shirt! [insert fake and LOUD crying] Mommy, stop! Stop! STOP THE CAR!
Me: Carson, I can’t stop. I’m on the freeway.
C: Stop right now! You have to get these off me!
Me: Carson, I can’t stop right now until we are at a red light.
C: There’s a red light right there on that truck!
Me: I mean a red STOP light.
C: Wuhl, just go off right there (we were passing an exit), right there, RIGHT THERE! WHY DIDN’T YOU GO OFF RIGHT THERE!?! [more loud, fake crying]
Me: Because, Babe, that’s not the way to church!
C: YES IT IS! It IS the way to church! I SAW a red light and you need to STOP THE CAR RIGHT NOW AND GET THESE CRUMBS OFF OF ME!
We went back and forth, him scolding me everytime we passed an exit or he saw a stop light on a side street and I didn’t leave the freeway or stop in any way to fix the crumb emergency. He kept trying to explain to me that there were plenty of red lights around and for some reason, I kept trying to explain to him that I had to stay the course and NOT stop on the freeway or we’d get hurt and/or never make it to church. After this inane back and forth, he was hysterical, and I told him I needed a time-out and turned up the music and started singing to drown out the whining. I know. Mother of the year.
His latest reasoning technique is to assume that I’m misunderstanding his desires. For instance:
Me: We don’t have popsicles for breakfast.
C: YES I DO! I DO want a popsicle for breakfast! I DO! I WANT ONE!
Me: Oh, sweetheart, I’m not debating your personal longings and aspirations for a popsicle, I’m simply asserting our household directive that we do not indulge in sugary treats before consuming a nutritious meal!
I KNOW! I thought it would be a conversation-ender too, but sadly: I was mistaken.