I was inspired by Kate's recent post about how her 6 year old son Lefty is becoming "Clarence Darrow in feety-pajamas". I'm not sure why she's surprised. She watches an average of 17 hours of Law and Order per week and has since before they were babies. I'm surprised he's hasn't already passed the Bar Exam and isn't actively prosecuting bad guys after Cub Scouts. [Editor's Note: I am prosecuting bad guys after Cub Scouts. I call them Perfect Mommies. And prosecuting, in the Latin translation, actually means "hit with vehicle." --Kate]
Unfortunately (for me), my kids are also debaters. They will argue any point to the death as long as it is my death and they are able to pronounce themselves the victors and I, the loser. They get it from their father, who argues with people and makes them mad for a living. And is very successful at it. Perhaps because of all the practice he gets at home inflicting his mad skills on me. I am not adequately prepared to deal with one of them, and now I have four of them. Awesome. And the small ones are gaining on me.
Need evidence? The following are some recent arguments I have had with my three children:
Argument #1: I Refuse to Engage in a Clown WarThis argument took place with my four year old son, whom we shall now refer to as "Hawk". Because he has expressed his preference that we use this name ("Hawk") as opposed to his given name. I have no idea where it comes from, though the Cap'n suspects that I have been allowing him to watch old re-runs of Spenser for Hire and insists that I include this YouTube link so you can see the so-called real "Hawk" for yourself. I have no further comment.
da Clown Wars toys. Dey look awesome.
Me: Ask Santa. And its CLONE Wars.
Hawk: No. You're wrong. It's CLOWN Wars.
Me: No. It's clone. Like all the soldiers who look exactly the same are actually clones. Clone Wars.
Hawk: You don't know what you're talking about.
Me: Dude, there are no clowns in Star Wars. Why would they call it CLOWN wars if there were no clowns in it?
Hawk: I'm just not going to argue with you. I'm out. (leaves the room)
Argument #2: You May Not Borrow the Car until 2019
6 yr old daughter: Mommy, can I please drive to school?
Me: Of course! Hop in your booster and get buckled!
6 yr old: No. I would like to drive.
Me: Honey. Don't be silly. You can't drive a car. To begin with, you don't have a license.
6 yr old: (earnestly) Yes, I know. I understand. And I'm way too young. But I've been watching you very carefully and I'm pretty sure I know how to do it. You don't even have to tell me what to do because I already know.
[Editor's Note: I call this little beauty Thumbelina... It's like every time she talks, butterflies come flying out of her mouth, she's that damn cute. But it's evil cute because she has an ABSOLUTE agenda and bends everyone to her will. Even me, and 1) I'm evil and 2)I don't bend. So it's weird. Have to say, I admire Lydia's restraint. If it was me, cops all over our city would be saying "WTF?! Is that a child driving?" And I'd be in the back seat drinking a cappuccino. She's a blond-hair, blue-eyed Mini Me. Adorable as all get-out but planning on annihilating all of us. She's awesome... --Kate]
Me: Um, wow. I'm sorry but no.
Thumbelina: (starting to get visibly upset) You're. Not. Listening. To. Me. I can do it. I know how to drive. I just need you to let me try.
Me: Well for starters, it's against the law. I would got to jail.
Thumbelina: (sobbing) You are not listening! I can do it! Please let me drive to school! Please! (anger and frustration coursing through every fiber of her small body)
Me: (stunned) No. I.... no.
Thumbelina: (eyes swell to ten times their normal size and glisten with extra large tears, heart-brokenly murmurs) Why don't you believe in me?
Her pain is so palpable that I nearly hand her the keys to the BWT. But I don't. But I actually thought about it.
Argument #4: Obviously, Mommy is Wrong (Also about Star Wars)
Hawk: You see dis Strange Trooper, Momma. He is in a EPIC BATTLE right now.Me: It's Stormtrooper.
Me: STORM. Trooper.
Hawk: Dat's. Not. Right.
Me: Storm, not strange. Trooper.
Hawk: Mommy, sigh... One person in this house knows everything about Star Wars, OK? And that's me and Daddy.
Me: Fine. Ask Daddy then.
Hawk: DADDY! DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!! DADDY!!!
Hawk: Who in our house knows everything 'bout Star Wars?
Cap'n: We do.
Hawk: Right. So Mommy says it's not Strange Troopers. She says it's some other thing.
Hawk: So who's right?
Cap'n: Obviously Mommy is wrong. She knows nothing about Star Wars.
Hawk: (oozes smugness. says nothing. glances in my direction once with pity in his eyes and leaves the room with his father.)
Argument #4: With the Baby. Who is Essentially Non-Verbal.
Me: (holding 13 month-old bundle of cuteness) Sweet, sweet girl. I WUUUVVV you.
Baby: Momma! (peals in a sweet, clear voice of adorable-ness. Then out of nowhere, slaps me hard across the face. Makes a sound like 'FWAP'. Also, she scratches me a little.)
Me: SONOFA!! That hurt! No, no! That is NOT OK!
Me: Gentle, gentle, Baby. Be gentle!
Baby: (smiling, cooing) Aaahhhhhh... (FWAP! This time she drags her nails across my eye and cheek. Pretty sure I'm bleeding.)
Me: DAMN IT! Ow! Bad Baby! That really hurt!
Baby: Hee hee hee hee heee! (literally rolling around on my lap laughing uproariously. At me. At my expense.)
Cap'n: Why are you cursing at my baby? What happened to your face?
Me: (handing him the still laughing baby) She slapped me. Like a pimp. SLAPPED. And she needs her nails cut.
Cap'n: Aw... my sweet, sweet girl. Daddy wuvs you!
Baby: MMMMMMMmmm.... KISS! (plants huge kiss on her Daddy and laughs in my general direction as he carries her off).
Me: Oh yeah? Try biting his nipple at 4am. See what happens then, you little ingrate.
Baby: (throws fat, little arms around daddy's neck, stares into his eyes and calls him...) Momma.
So, basically. I can't win. I don't know why I bother to watch the Clown Wars. I'm clearly living the Clown Wars. At least those who will defeat me are cute.
(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. - 2009