The human will is an awesome thing. Not ‘awesome’ like we throw it around now, for things so banal as a good cup of coffee or a properly framed selfie. Awesome in the true, world-altering sense. Straddling base instinct and our own, heralded consciousness, our will has allowed us to do fantastic things, both glorious and horrible. What we have built and destroyed, accomplished and overcome, all due to our simple, stubborn will, is incredible.
So in that frame of light, I don’t want to squelch it in my kids. They should be rewarded for sticking to it, not giving up. Keep fighting! Never stop! Don’t take no for an answer! Except when they won’t take no for an answer! What the hell is wrong with them!?
It starts so young and the train keeps chugging. The baby throws food in your face from her chair. The two year old screams “NO!” a hundred times in a row while running naked down the hall, and he means it. The three year old’s favorite phrase is “Don’t wanna!” which she often reserves for a public audience. And on and on and on. Once they get older and start to master the art of arguing, the fun really begins. Not as mind-numbingly repetitive, but beguiling and befuddling.
The constant angle-shooting, fact manipulation, and plain willfulness is exhausting. And it’s hard to commend their effort when they are waging it relentlessly against you, attempting to overthrow the resident despot with a blend of guile and pure will. And they’re girls, so they smartly use everything at their disposal. Weaving webs of partial truths while tugging at the heartstrings at the same time. I’m gonna get what I want, it’s only a matter of time, old man.
“I said no. That’s my answer. Because I said so!” My feeble attempt is met with silence and aversion, just like I met the same odious phrase when I was growing up.
Lilah is at that 8 year-old stage where every negative response she hears is actually a maybe. She’s sure she just has to keep pushing, or reword it, or ask the other parent.
“No, I never said we could have pie for dinner.”
“But it’s got fruit in it and it’s gonna go bad. Remember I asked you and you said someday we could have vegetables after and then you said…”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“No I DIDN’T.”
“Yes you DID.”
And I glare into her unblinking eyes for the inevitable staring contest of truth. She tries as hard as she can, but I am unbeatable. Years of Midwestern childhood competitions of extreme boredom have left me with a number of unenviable skills, and the staring contest is one of them. I haven’t been beat since some chump in the 6th grade eked out a victory one windy day sparring in the fields. Maybe that’s why I have floaters in my eyes now.
She blinks, and blinks again, then laughs and runs off. Little imp. The damn revolutionaries are always at the door. She’s probably off to a quick debriefing session in her sister’s room. Planning their next coup attempt.
“I told her that was never going to happen,” Sophie adds 60 seconds later, complete with a dour look pointed towards Lilah, who rips out a cartwheel and punches the leftover party balloon in the living room I keep telling her to get rid of.
Covering for her sister with her own disapproval. Use the young one as a battering ram, and then leave her lying outside the door when it doesn’t work. Pure, unmitigated balls.
Now get back upstairs, we have to plan our next, not quite as ridiculous ploy. Eventually we’ll get those sundaes for dessert, we just have to make them look reasonable compared to our other requests. Yes, I agree, it is genius.
It is a great thing, and one to be fostered. What makes Sophie jump off the turf after being plastered by a defender in soccer. What makes Lilah never give up in karate, sparring with kids twice her size. Accomplish! Overcome! Finish that book, that race, that class, that song, that math test. Never give in, dammit. You can do whatever you want, if you want it bad enough.
“This is great, thanks Dad! And you said we couldn’t watch TV for two whole days,” Lilah says as I set up a movie, a mere day after my angry edict of two entire days without screens for all children in the realm.
I just stared at her again. Why you little shit! You’re willing to risk what you’ve been begging for, just to point out my weakness. To highlight my frailty against your little girl resolve.
“You know what, you’re right! I said that, I should stick by it no matter what.”
“Lilah!!!” Sophie screamed, popcorn flying from her lap. She was not involved in this test, not by any means. No way she was willing to forgo a movie to prove some long-term point about who meant business in this power struggle. But Lilah was.
“Sorr-yyyy!” Lilah whined in that sing-song, I’m-not-really-sorry apology that both appeases and antagonizes.
“I realized that I came down too hard on you yesterday when I said that. I changed my mind, and it worked out for you this time. I can change my mind again, you know. Maybe I will,” I reply as I take the DVD back out of the player.
“No no no no SORRY daddy no thank you,” they both reply together in perfect, genuine unison.
“Oh, OK. Every once in awhile I change my mind, and it may even benefit you. But you better shut up about it or I’ll always stick to my word no matter how ridiculous it is.”
“Yes Daddy.”
They smile and we watch the movie happily together. Chalk one up to…shit I don’t know! These battles of wills are messy and I’m not sure who won this one. I was gonna mess up no matter what. This way we all get to watch a movie and enjoy a sundae. Pretty sure I won. Don’t tell me it’s all about how you frame it, I’ll just plug my ears and sing a loud Christmas song to drown you out.
A great story, Matt! I can sure identify with the parent part! (And maybe the child’s part as well:).
Love it! Girls will manipulate you; boys just break all your things. I’ll never forget one day when Dear Daughter, at age 3, announced she was going to school as the Pokemon Ponyta. Ponyta does not wear clothes, so the kid announced she was NOT getting dressed. It took half an hour to convince her to wear (white) clothes, since Ponyta is white, and my daughter is actually more pinkish.
Your blog is great fun to read, and well written. Kudos!