First and foremost, because let's all face it, he is my favorite, I'll tell you how Philip is doing. Little Phil Phil is enjoying his daily dose of reality at "school". School is a much more pleasant sounding term to use to help lessen the severity of guilt I feel about leaving my son at, dare I say the word, daycare. As if anyone can "care" for my child all "day" the way I can. But school, well school is good. School helps children learn. Many days I'm not sure what, exactly, they are learning, but I am told learning does take place.
I have to admit that I am a briber. If I can get desirable results out of my children by offering up a bribe to reward them for their efforts, you can bet I will do it. Oh, please, like you have never bribed your children? Goody-goody.
So, when Philip was demonstrating resistence to his new lifestyle, I knew I had to find a way to eliminate the tears and unhappiness, both his and mine. For a while now, he has been asking for a "packpack", or you may know it as a backpack. I have not bought him one because I didn't see any reason for him to need one. Not that that has ever stopped me from buying something my kids wanted. I have other issues with saying "no" that we won't discuss at this time. But with regards to the "packpack" I must have subconsciously known I would need that desired gift to serve a greater purpose than "just because you are the cutest kid in the world and I can't say no to anything you ask me for, especially when you throw yourself on the floor of the store and scream and yell and kick me, and tell me you're not my friend anymore" - That always gets them what they want. What? Like you won't do anything to get your screaming kid to shut-up in the store? And, yes, I said Shut-up.
Side story - back before Christmas we were in the store looking at Power Wheels because we knew we wanted to get Philip one for Christmas. Well, Philip decided he had to have one right then, and literally started screaming and crying at the top of his lungs "I want it" over and over. As we were hurrying through the aisles to make our escape out the doors, this old lady stopped us and told us we needed to get him whatever it was he wanted. Now normally, I would just smile, and keep going, but not this day. I looked that old bat, I mean lady, in the eyes, and said, in my not-so-pleasant, I'm about to rip your head off, mean mommy voice, "Well, what he wants is a $400 Power Wheels 4-wheeler. Now if you would like to purchase said item for him, be my guest. Otherwise, mind your own business, you old hag!" I just added the old hag part, I could never be that disrespectful. Well, yes I could, but the old lady just got off lucky.
Does that story count as my "Monday Memory"?
Now back to the "packpack". After the first week of unhappiness due to having parents that love income more than him, I could tell Philip was going to need some persuasion to help him accept his new situation. So, with my most loving, happy mom-of-the-year voice, I tell Philip that if goes the whole week without crying when I take him to school, I will take him to Target on Friday and buy him whatever backpack he wants. His eyes tell me that this was an idea he could get on board with. After daily reminders in the car on the way to school each day that week about the promised backpack, we had no more tears.
So, off we go on Friday to Target to get the most desirable backpack they have to offer. My selection would have been the more age-appropriate Diego backpack. But apparently, while I work my life away, my baby has decided that he is more a Spider-Man kind of guy now.
Problem solved, happy kid, mom-of-the-year indeed!
No comments:
Post a Comment