In the car. “Mommy can you put the window down? Pweaaaassseeee?” “Baby it’s too hot outside for the window down.” “Mommy pwease!!!!!” “No Baby, it’s too hot.” “PWWWEEEASSSEEE MOMMY I NEED THE WIN-NOW DOWN PWEASE IT’S NOT TOO HOT PWEASE!”
“Baby, I can’t put the window down.” “MOMMY TWY!!! TWY!! YES YOU CAN! TWY!” And then the clincher – “Mommy I don’t feel good.” Which in effect means “put the window down before I throw up all over.” But she’s playing me – sometimes she really doesn’t feel good and other times it’s just a ploy to get me to put the window down. She’s no fool – she knows I won’t (usually) risk it. Cleaning up a screaming kid and a car seat full of chunk is ZERO FUN.
Persistence. It’s a good thing I love her so much. She has inherited this lovely trait from my Dear Old Dad – her beloved PaPa. Thanks ever so much Dad, for passing along this gene of NEVER GIVE UP. This is why Dad buys all the wine. He knows it’s his fault.
What? She’s just like ME? Surely not. I was never this demanding, this determined or this difficult. I was an angel child. I do not have a head of steel. I don’t push and prod and keep working until I get what I want. I do not put my head down like a battering ram until I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. You must have me mistaken for my Dad. That’s HIM. And his Fu-Fu.
Now, I’m not saying that persistence isn’t a Good Thing. It’s a great trait to have. When things get tough, or when you are damn sure going to finish this project or when something is, um, pissing you off – hard-headedness can see you through. Great and wonderful things can be accomplished with a little persistence and a lot of determination. When someone tells my Dad (and OK yes – me too) that something can’t be done you can visibly see our eyes narrow, our jaws set and that thing in our brains that screams “want to bet?”
However, when you are three years old and your Mommy is just wishing you would for Pete’s sake, LISTEN to her instead of doing it YOUR WAY, persistence is Hell. Especially when YOUR WAY is not working but you aren’t willing to admit you need help. Because you are three and because you are JUST LIKE YOUR PAPA. Just saying.
And I’m not putting the Damn Win-now down. Two can play this game and you can bet your fanny I’m going to win.
Sorry Kiddo. I can assure you that she is. Just. Like. You. But denial is ok too. For awhile.