My Decision

Depressingly, Liam is already starting to win arguments against his Dadda.  I'm pretty sure this isn't supposed to happen until he's eight years old, not when he's two.  The other day, Rachael had her hands full with a pretty ornery little boy.  He's starting to assert his own will, and we're having to lay down the law more than a few times on the little tike. 

You see, Liam has started to develop his own tenants of civil disobedience:

1)  Just because we ask him to do something, it doesn't mean he has to do it. 
2)  Hard things are hard, and it makes no sense to do them if you can get someone else to do them for you.  We could call him a Democrat, but he's only 2 and we're gonna root this one out.
3)  Putting #1 and/or #2 into effect CAN result in punishment from Mamma and Dadda, so the satisfaction obtained by disobedience must be measured against the unpleasant consequence that is likely to occur for different rebellious acts.  In short - he is testing us.

We're trying to use the "big boy" argument exhaustively to try and get him to do things like use the potty chair, or put on his own shoes, or take off his own clothes, etc.  After he'd given Rach a tough day, he started in on me.  I tried to teach him how to put on his own PJs, and he showed a complete lack of effort or desire to do so.  I told him, "Liam, I was going to take you to the store (reward), but since you didn't even TRY to put on your PJs, I don't think I'm going to take you."  The obvious theory was that he would instantly recognize the peril of not enjoying a trip with his Dadda, run to his jammies and try to throw them on.  Instead, he looked at me with those beautiful hazel eyes and said, "Well, Dadda, that is your decision".  What?  That's my decision?  What kid says that?  With one simple sentence, he reduced my clever endeavor to mush.  Dumbfounded, I walked away scratching my head, and Liam went back to whatever it was he was doing.

So having a pretty bright little fella is great and all, but I'll tell you - sometimes we're going to have our hands full because it looks like he's already smarter than us.  It's a darn good thing that he's a beautiful, loving, fun little guy with a sweet heart - and not merely smarter than your average bear.  All I know is that sometimes his little gestures or smiles or the sweet little things he says can melt me in a flash, and just make me want to slobber all over him.  That's my boy.