“No, you’re done eating for the day,” I say as I refuse him a third after-dinner snack. But will I be raiding the pantry after I tuck him in later?
“It’s not time to play phone,” I explain when he asks in the middle of a Saturday morning. “We have certain times when we play phone, and now is not one of those times.” But it is for me: as soon as he’s back to watching Dora the Explorer, I’m back to scrolling through Twitter.
“We don’t yell.” Unless we get really mad, I guess, in which case Mommy gets a sore throat from refusing him whatever bedtime stalling tactic he’s been whining for.
“We don’t hit.” Unless Mommy specifically says that if you don’t start following directions, I will spank your bottom, and then you willfully ignore me.
(One whack, bare hand on bottom. God sakes, don’t go calling Child Protective Services on me because I blogged about spanking my kid once or twice when he was about to slip and hit his fool head in the bathroom if he kept up his shenanigans.)
“Use your words.” Unless those words would be ones that little ears shouldn’t hear nor mouths repeat, in which case an exasperated scream should suffice.
His dinner plate: perfectly balanced with protein, fruits, veggies, grains. Mine: a bowl full of whatever the main course is.
I read him two books every night before bed. I check Twitter and NewsBlur and play Words With Friends and Two Dots before bed.
Edit: I thought of another one this morning as I snoozed my alarm for a half hour… then prodded my son to get up already so we could get breakfast and I could get to work.
At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if I someday say to my son, in all seriousness, “Do as I say, not as I do.”
Maybe it’s time to lead by example.