Perseverance

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When it’s time to go to bed and your child is demonstrating a quality that many people including adults are lacking, you have to just nod your head and tip your cap in Derek Jeter style.

I’ve done every teacher/ parent move in the book. He gets a five and two minute warning and then it’s time to head off to bed, but this kid is persistent. He tried it all… and he continues to try it all.

• I need to pee.

Even though you insisted 60,000 times you didn’t have to pee three seconds before this statement?

• I’m thirsty.

Impossible because you literally are holding a cup full of apple juice.

• I had a bad dream.

You have to be sleeping in order to dream… I call BS on this one.

• Please leave the bathroom light on because it’s so dark outside.

It’s night time. It’s supposed to be dark out.

• I want a hug and a kiss.

I gave you a hug and kiss when we came upstairs and the fourteen times I put you to sleep tonight, and when you asked for a drink… I see a pattern here.

• I have to tell you a secret in your ear

Unless the secret consists of you telling me you’re going to sleep right now, then I don’t want to hear it.

• Where’s Peppa Pig? I need my Peppa, George, Susie Sheep and Pedro Pony!!!

You mean the same Peppa Pig that you just threw across the room and said get this out of here?

• I’m really squished right now… there are too many stuffed animals in my bed.

Why the hell did you put them all in the bed in the first place?

After all that… the most effective move he made… the move that showed he won’t give in… the move that will define him is this:

When all else fails, curl up in the fetal position and pretend to be asleep!

Nice work kid… a tip of the cap to you:

2 thoughts on “Perseverance

  1. My youngest was right around two when he came up with an approach so brilliant that I couldn’t even get mad at him, I was so impressed.

    The only slow song I know is the Eagles’ “Desperado”, so that was his “night-night” song. Now safe to say, I’m no Don Henley. Not even if he smoked 12 packs a day tried to belt out the lyrics via burping. Still, my boy looked up at me, smiled so sweetly, and said “so pretty. Sing again”. I was so overcome with love in that moment that I couldn’t help but give him an encore.

    He had me and he knew it. The only part that really pisses me off is that I didn’t see how I was being emotionally manipulated until about the 4th encore, when it occurred to me that the little so-and-so was playing with my fragile father’s heart.

    His was the superior intellect.

    Like

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