Lately, the lass has taken to trying to boss me. Nothing too major, most stuff that skirts closer to the nagging side of the spectrum than and overt command. But it’s pretty clear that the intent is there.
One of the things she, inexplicably, likes to ding me for is cleaning up. I say ‘inexplicably’ because cleaning up is definitely not her strong suit either. So her comments almost take on a ‘pot calling the kettle black’ quality.
Except, sticking with the cookware metaphor, it’s more like a little tin cup talking to a witches cauldron… On second thought, let’s not push that metaphor too far.
The point is, aside from the usual levels of laziness, I have reasons for not doing something right then. Often times, it involves having a kid do the job instead.
Like that empty dish sitting in front of me after dinner? The one she’s wagging her finger at me and saying “Daaaaddy, you’ve got to put your dish in the dishwasher.” To which I calmly reply, “No, I don’t. That’s your job.” Right after she finishes the wad of food in her mouth and whatever is left on her plate. Sometimes she’ll try to “cute” her way out of it. Most times it doesn’t work. The one tactic she occasionally uses that does work is to take forever-and-a-day to finish her dinner. If I wait that long, things will be growing on my plate before she gets to it.
After another more overt attempt at telling me what to do, I informed her “I don’t take orders from 5 year olds.”
She giggled triumphantly and retorted “I’m not 5, I’m 6!”
I didn’t miss a beat: “I don’t take orders from them either.”
At that point, she put her hands on her hips, squinted her eyes at me while cocking her head to the side, smirked, and said nothing. Then she danced off to whatever was next at the time. I can only assume she couldn’t come up with a further retort at that time. Somehow I doubt that will always be the case.
Interestingly, the boy has not been trying to do likewise. Not that I’m complaining.
Because 3 people trying to boss me around is 3 too many.