My poor boy has a rough life. If you don't believe me, just ask him. He'll tell you.
I brought Biscuit home from day care today, and as soon as we walked into the house, he said, "Mom, can I watch cartoons in your bedroom?"
"No," I said. "No cartoons until after your bath."
Apparently, this is not the answer he was expecting to hear.
"No, Mom? You said no?" Biscuit asked.
"That's right, I said no," I told Biscuit.
You'd have thought I slapped his face off. His bottom lip ran out, the tears started, quickly followed by whining.
"But Mom, I want to watch cartoons," Biscuit said.
"I know you do," I said. "And you can, after your bath."
"But I want to watch now," Biscuit whined.
"I'm sorry," I said, and I went to the kitchen to start dinner.
"When is my Dad coming home?" Biscuit asked.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked.
"My Dad will let me watch cartoons," Biscuit said.
"No, he won't," I said. "When Mama says no, that means no."
"But I'll ask my Dad," Biscuit said.
"If you ask your Dad, he'll say no just like Mama said no," I told him. "When I say no, that's the end of it."
"But what can I do, Mom?" Biscuit asked. "I don't have anything to do."
"Well, you've got all kinds of toys in the living room," I said. "I can set you up at the table with a coloring book and crayons or paper and pencils. You can draw on your chalkboard. You can play your music instruments. You can go outside. You can go upstairs to play with your train table. You mean to tell me that with all those options, you can't find anything to do?"
Biscuit walked into the living room and flopped down on the floor.
"I'll just sit here, Mom," Biscuit said. "I'll just SIT RIGHT HERE and do NOTHING. I won't do ANYthing. And you won't be my friend anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.
My poor boy. I was trying really hard not to laugh, but it was so funny! He was being so dramatic. It was like he truly believed that his world was ending.
I walked into the living room and got my camera. I thought if he saw the camera, he might get distracted enough to forget why he was so upset. I told him I was going to take a picture of him. And do you know what he said to me? Do you know what my 3-year-old son said to me?
"So?" Biscuit said with all the attitude of a 13-year-old.
Whoa! Did he really just say that?!?
I snapped a couple of pictures, put my camera down and walked back into the kitchen. Biscuit knew I was not happy.
"Mom?" Biscuit said. He was sitting in the living room floor with his legs crossed. "Mom?"
I let him call me a couple of times before I answered. "What?" I asked.
"I give up," Biscuit said. "I just give up!" And he crossed his arms in the air and drew them quickly in toward his stomach just to add a little more drama. "I'm just going to sit here and give up."
The boy didn't give up for long. Biscuit met Jeff at the door.
"Hey, boy. What are you doing?" Jeff asked.
"I've been crying, Dad," Biscuit said.
"Why have you been crying?" Jeff asked.
"I give up," Biscuit said.
"We don't give up, boy," Jeff said. "We don't give up."
"Okay," Biscuit said. "I won't give up."
And that was pretty much the end of it.
Here are the photos I took:
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As I was uploading these photos, I said to Jeff, "It hurts me to see these photos. I almost hate putting them in the post.
"He's not hurt," Jeff said. "He's just pouting. And it's perfectly okay to call his bluff when he's acting like that."
I know Jeff speaks the truth, but I still don't like to see my baby sad.
1 comment:
Oh, dude, that is the most pitiful face I have ever seen! SO traumatic, his life! I'm impressed you can stick to your guns when he's like that. Good parenting, Mama.
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