Happy Independence Day! Yes, I know it is not the fourth of July. I remember, though, learning how 56 men signed a document that would lead America toward its goal of freedom from tyranny. The country, of course, was not indemnified until the Constitution of the United States outlined the rights and framework of its citizenry. Son, apparently, has branched out to declare on a daily basis his ability to work, act, and think independently. If I close a door, son screams, “I wanted to do THAT!” If I lift him into his car seat, son screams, “I wanted to do THAT!” If wife or I cut his sandwich in squares, son yells, “I wanted triangles; I won’t eat that!” He then throws his food across the room. Really. I can’t place when this first began, but it seems the house is in a full scale rebellion even without an official declaration.
If son were Luke Skywalker, then I am sure he would see me as his Darth Vader, stifling his ability to be creative. Then again, dropping him off at school today where he has to close the classroom door on his own, he stopped, raised his hands and asked for a hug. So, maybe I am more like Annakin Skywalker after the Emperor had been defeated. They had a bonding moment, too. Wife says I have more patience than she does but I fail to see that attribute in me when I become utterly frustrated as I attempt to get him ready for school. Today, he kept saying, “Go AWAY, I am still SLEEPING,” and then after ten attempts finally let me carry him downstairs to the couch. I then had to barter with him: one item of clothing per episode of Cailliou. I don’t know how that show can be seen as a commodity with which I can trade. If it works, though…
Another glorious effort to get him ready occurred this morning as I attempted to convince him to wear his Polar Tech hoodie. See, the problem started this past Winter when wife took some clothes immediately out of the dryer and dressed son. Since that time, he has wanted his clothes warmed with the hair dryer. To appease the growing rage, son and I marched upstairs where I warmed his shirt. We get back downstairs and then he declares that now he wants the jacket warmed, too. I am quickly running out of time, because the USS Buick is low on fuel and I need to get to work. I make a deal that I will go back up and warm it so we can leave for school. I do just that and everyone gets to school on time.
I constantly question how son and daughter differ so much. Some laugh and say, “You know boys…” but I cannot take that for an answer. It’s too simple (and usually said by wife or mother-in-law). Some say it’s the second child syndrome. I guess it doesn’t matter. Yesterday at Target, he threw a massive temper tantrum and had to be escorted out of the building as EVERYONE looked on. I am pulling, well, dragging him to the car as he cries that he’s sorry. I let go to accept his apology when he launches like a Viper out of a Battlestar across the street causing several cars to slam on the brakes where he then stood on the curb and stomped his feet. He is willful, but I think I will crush this rebellion.