Posted by: DD | April 27, 2007

no. 428 – How a Conversation about Snacks Turns Ugly

My son is very picky about snacks. I don’t know who he thinks he is, but I’m fairly sure there’s no career in being a connoisseur of fruit roll-ups. He mentioned the fact he didn’t like his snack when I picked him up and thought that out of some motherly obligation, I should go and get him a snack that he deemed adequate before we headed to day care where he is scheduled to immediately sit down for lunch.

I told him it’s not my fault he doesn’t like the snacks the kids bring and that he will just have to go until the afternoon snack that his day care provider doles out.

It was quickly apparent that this answer was not good enough for him.

"Tyler doesn’t eat the snacks at school because he’s allergic to them!"

"No, X, Tyler is allergic to peanuts, not to snacks, especially the kind you had today  (gummy fruit snacks). Why don’t you eat the raisins you have in your backpack from yesterday?"

"I don’t like raisins! I’m allergic to them!"

During this lovely exchange, we are on our way to our day care provider’s home across town. I’m driving and X is directly behind me in the middle row of the SUV.

"X don’t tell stories. You are NOT allergic to raisins. You’re not allergic to anything."

"Yes I am!"

I feel the muscles on the back of my neck tense up.

"Do you know what an allergy is?"

"No (pout)."

"If you had a food allergy, your tongue would swell up and you wouldn’t be able to breath. You would get very sick."

It was what was said next that forced me to pull off onto a side street with barely a glance in my rearview mirror and skid to a stop and throw my vehicle into park; throw open my door; throw open his door; and yank his little ass out of the vehicle and up onto the sidewalk, all within a nanosecond:

"Do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way?!" and he started hitting the back of my seat with his crayons and kicking it with his feet.

Oh yes he did!

We will do this the hard way, little man. Bring it!

After we went a round of ultimate fighting and much blood spattering and teeth spitting calmed down and an explanation of how dangerous it was for him to throw things at me while I’m driving, I told him he would have to ride in the third row until such time I can trust him again to sit behind me.

Right now he’s thinking he got a pretty sweet deal. He’s always wanted to ride back there. When he realizes he no longer has access to any toys, portable activities or the window, he’ll be begging to sit back up in the second row.

This is the same sweet child who just a couple months ago cried when we burned the wallpaper from his room.

When he gets to be bigger than me, I’m totally fucked, aren’t I?

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Responses

  1. Wow! Way to put the smack down, mama!

  2. I remember my mother looking up at my brothers while she raised holy Cain over whatever stupid thing they did to make her mad. The feared her wrath as much when they were big enough to squash her as they did when they were wee little things.

    My friend’s mom made her sons sit down when she was mad. I remember when she found the son’s marijuana stash as soon as he walked in the house she pointed to a chair and said, “You are in so much trouble.” He sat. She yelled.

    You’ll be fine.

  3. Is it bad that I’m laughing? (Easy for me to laugh.)

    You’re a good mamma, he’s just testing you. This is why kids are born so cute.

    This is also where my parents used to argue about who’s kid I really was.

    I’ll bet X takes after Mr. DD.

  4. If you get it right right now, it won’t matter how big he gets.

    Oh, and he should be thankful YOU are his momma and not me, because had I been his momma, he’d not only be sitting in the third row, he’d have a sore booty sitting in the third row. We’ve had a few incidents where people thought they could kick my seat or their dad’s, or where things have been thrown, and they’ve been disabused of any thoughts that that’s acceptable. Oh, and also? We had to quit playing the slug bug game with “Slugging” – you know where you punch somebody when you see a VW Beetle? Yeah, the second or third time I got punched while I was driving, not even aware there was a VW in the vicinity, that game ended. We changed the rules so that whoever sees 3 slugbugs in trip “wins”. They only get bragging rights, but that’s enough.

  5. Oh boy. I am *not* looking forward to those days! I haven’t had anything tossed at my head yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

  6. “When he gets to be bigger than me, I’m totally fucked, aren’t I?”

    I don’t think so. Make your point really strong a couple of times and he will get the message. It’s where you don’t stand up to the monsters that you are totally fucked.

    We’ve had a couple of serious battles of will but every punishment got more severe and they soon realised -I’ve got twins- that in the end Mummy always wins.

    Not that I felt like it at the time but in hindsight I’m glad I did.

    Good luck.

  7. You GO! Love your firmness. My big boy is still afraid of me (a whole foot taller) and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll put the fear into that little girlfriend of his, too. heh heh

  8. I am 5’5-son#1 is 6’3, son #2 is 6′ and son #3 is 5’5 (eye to eye)..they are all still growing but they shrink to a mess of whiny crap when I start to yell. It still amazes me that they have never looked at me and told me to fuck off. They call when they are going to be late for their 11:30 curfew (which is another thing I CANNOT believe they haven’t argued about..hell #1 is 18 years old!) Mom’s have power…and it is sooooo cool.

  9. I LOVE that idea – 3rd row! MY ds annoys the #$%@ out of me when he kicks!! He hasn’t started throwing, but when he does I know right where he is going!
    Karen

  10. Oy vey. Perhaps we should set up your son with my daughter. We call her the sassaholic.

  11. lol…mine still do things like this. The one thing to remember…be consistent. They will know and toe the line (most of the time) as long as they know where it is…

    …i think…

  12. I’m still trying to figure out exactly when my 5 year old got so damn smart. Maybe daycare/preschool isn’t such a good thing.

  13. My husband is still terrified of his mother and he is 6’2″/215, so I wouldn’t worry too much about when he gets bigger…

  14. Your giving me nightmarish visions of what I have in my future. Let me know what you do to fix it so I can just follow your lead k??

  15. I suppose I should start instilling the fear of mommy wrath into mine now… oh wait… I’m trying to do so now.

    Sigh.

    It’s my only chance to maintain control as I know both my boys will eventually tower over me.


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