I'm not going to go into where we're at with potty training. After one momentary success (and oh how I gloried in that success - the blog post was already writing itself in my mind's laptop), it's been a downhill slide toward failure, and I now find myself in a frazzled, exhausted heap at the bottom. So yeah, we're not gonna go there right now, mmmkay?
But in between the constant battles surrounding the porcelain throne, there have been all kinds of other battles with Jack. This kid should be a lawyer. Not when he grows up. Like, now. He can argue anything. Who needs reason or rationalization when you can simply stick the words "I think" or "maybe" in front of whatever you feel like saying? Here are some examples (I know you guys love the examples):
Me: "Jack, it's time for bed."
Jack: "I think it's not time for bed."
Me: "Jack, we need to wash our hands."
Jack: "Maybe we are not need to wash our hands."
And he says these things with this hideously obnoxious rising inflection in the middle - "Maybe I DON'T want to poop on the potty." "I think we are NOT having peas for dinner." You get the idea.
He whines. Constantly. He refuses to do things just for the sake of being contrary. When we tried to cut his hair yesterday, he threw a fit so epic all three of us were having a tantrum by the end. As John said, Jack couldn't have screamed louder or longer if we were cutting off a limb. Come to think of it, cutting off my OWN arm and beating myself with it would have been a more pleasant way to spend a Sunday.
Despite the fact that Jack seems to hate us most of the time, his whole tune changes when the poor nanny shows up in the morning. Suddenly all he wants to do is spend every waking hour with Mommy. I was trying to take a shower before work today when Jack marched into the bathroom, insisting that maybe he doesn't like Katya. I told him that wasn't nice and he needed to go out and say hello. You know what I got for my troubles?
"No money, no ticket!" And a door slammed in my face.
What the what?! Who is this demon, and what has he done with my baby?
Don't let that innocent face fool you. The devil horns only come out when you let your guard down.
Right now, Jack is clinging to my arm like a baby koala, all soft and squidgy and adorable. But I'm not letting it get to me. There's a lemon cake baking in the oven, and this child wants a slice. Can Jack reason? Absolutely. This three year old knows exactly what he's doing.
And that, my friends, is the scariest part of all.