“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you; you didn’t take a shower yesterday,” I stated to the boy, ending our argument.
The boy had just finished his homework, spelling words and some reading. The lass had finished her shower several minutes ago. I’d made a deal with them: after finishing up his homework they could watch one episode of their current favorite cartoon, Beyblades. It’s a show about battling tops. No really, that’s what it’s about.
So the boy had finished up his homework and wanted to watch the cartoon. I told him he had to go take his shower. He’d gone outside after getting home from school and taken advantage of the nice weather. Plus, he hadn’t taken a shower in a couple of days, so it was time.
His argument was that he’d taken a shower last night. Now, I had suggested he take a shower last night since he’d returned home from martial arts all sweated up, but he had hemmed and hawed, told me he’d taken one a couple days ago and I’d given up.
Now, he was claiming he had in fact taken a shower that he hadn’t taken. Not only that, he was quite emphatic about the point. I went around with him a couple of times before I finally told him the argument was over. To be honest, at that point I really didn’t care if he took a shower, but I wasn’t going to tell him that and give him a ready excuse to have his way.
He was silent, trying to decide what to do. Finally, he blurted out an exasperated “FINE! I’ll take a stupid shower even though I already took a shower last night and now I shouldn’t need a shower for the rest of my life.”
And off he went. I sat quietly, reading on my Nook.
I sent the kids to bed a bit earlier tonight because they like to use stall tactics to extend their up time. They balked initially, but I persisted and they relented without too much difficulty.
When I got upstairs, the boy happened to be the first one ready to go down, so I said my “Goodnight” to him and clicked off the light to his room.
As I entered the lass’ room, she still wasn’t quite ready for bed. She was putting away her school clothes. She was being very meticulous about getting it on the hanger and then into the closet. In other words, she was stalling.
Finally, she finished with a flourish, hopped in bed and asked, accusingly, “Dad, how come you always say Goodnight to my brother first?”
Sigh
There’s nothing they won’t pick a fight over.
As I walked over to the bed, I told her that I don’t, in fact, always say Goodnight to her brother first.
“Yes you do.”
Really? This game? Right before bed?
Idiot that I am, I egged her on. “No, I don’t.”
“Yesyoudo.” No smirk. No hint of a smile. She seemed to be completely in earnest. How do they do that?
I gave her a kiss and said “Goodnight” to her, and as I walked to the door, I told her “No, I don’t.”
“Yesyoudo.”
Thankfully, she was in bed and I was heading downstairs for the rest of the evening. “Goodniiiii-iiiight” I called back.
No reply this time.
One reply on “Stubborn”
Old habits die hard [she’s probably right – but the boy came first, so its likely a subconscious thing … switch it up … say good night in the hallway …. or: “I saved the best for last ..” you’ll never please them … you just have to remember the ‘magic of illusion/deception’ … it’s all a game ! !