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Manipulative? Machiavellian? Me?
By Betsy Richter | 2:02 pmDamn right, baby.
Yesterday’s task: to get the small child who didn’t have school yesterday up, dressed, fed and bags packed (lunch, the fifty gazillion items she simply must bring, etc. etc. etc.) for all-day childcare at her school.
And since Drama Mama has a finely-honed sense of fairness these days, getting her up and out the door on a day where she could have slept in if “Mooooommmm didn’t have to go to that pesky joooooooOOOOOb of hers” is, well, an undiluted joy and thrilling treat!
Also, incredibly fun when a) I have to get myself out the door in a timely manner and b) we’re both trying to keep quiet lest we wake The Beast That Is the Teenager in our Midst (who also didn’t have school.)
(Note: if you think that taking codeine for his foot injuries makes The Mogul a happy and spacy teen, guess again – it only amps his cranky meter up to 11 while leaving him with the ability to record and/or memorize every single teeny tiny perceived infraction against him, is all.)
But I planned ahead in an attempt to lessen the pain. We stopped Thursday night to make sure we had stuff that DM would want to take to school for lunch (plus special snacks!) and I let her twist my arm to get the funky looking Eggo waffles for a special breakfast.
And miracle of miracles – the child was dressed, fed, packed and ready to go on time. Hell, she was early. (Cue the celestial choir, please..)
Until we hit the footwear issue, that is. She lobbied hard to wear her flip flops (which are normally verboten for school itself.) Flip flops in November, you wonder? Me, too – but she brushed aside my pesky concerns about weather (so what if it’s supposed to be cold and rainy?) and suitability for games and even my trump card – “you’re going to dad’s this weekend and can’t wear flip flops all weekend long, you know.”
So I let her wear them. Much to The Father’s dismay, when I called with the pre-pickup kid report later that afternoon. He was none too thrilled with me when I suggested that he remind her to switch out her shoes when they stopped by the house to retrieve TM, and really didn’t think it was wise of me to cave to a nine year old. See also: why didn’t you lay down your parental law?
But I had ulterior motives at hand when I said yes. See, there are battles, and there are Wars. The battle in this case – getting her to wear appropriate shoes – is only part of the larger War – learning that Mom actually does know best most of the time. (Not to mention that whole ‘getting out of the house on time’ business.)
So having a small child with chilly, wet feet all day – or a kid who can’t jump and run with her peers during open gym time? That’s the best way to learn that flip flops probably weren’t a good idea after all, don’t you think?
And from the discarded flip flops I saw on the living room floor when I got back from work last night, I’m betting she got that message loud and clear.
This time, anyway. But Machiavelli and me? We’ll be back…
(for some reason, it’s Machiavelli theme day around these parts…)
Topics: Bossing the Kids, Drama Mama | No Comments »
