I Can Be Manipulated

Elan has many talents, but I think the most impressive is his ability to manipulate his father into agreeing with his logic to get what he wants. We call it his "Option Three" reasoning.

See, they tell parents that when you want something out of your child, present him or her options from which to choose, which makes feisty little toddlers, always striving to exert their independence, think they are actually doing what they wanted to do, and will thus not resent you for controlling them. Example: "Charlie, would you like to take a bath and then brush your teeth? Or do you feel like brushing your teeth first tonight?"

Charlie's supposed to say, "I want to brush my teeth first! Ha ha! I have control and it feels soooo good to be the boss!" While mom chuckles, "Sucker!"

With Elan, it never worked. He'd look at Y and me, while we were trying our darndest to sell him on something, to force him into making an acceptable choice, and see right through us. So he'd then throw an Option 3 at us, which was inevitably far more satisfying to him. I don't fall for it, and hold my ground. Y, however, is usually so confused by Elan's new vision of the ideal reality, that he is easily sold. The following really happened:

Elan sees Y drinking Coke.
Elan asks Y for a sip.
Y says: You can have some of my drink after you finish all of your chicken, or all of your rice. Pick one.
Elan says: Or I know...how about, you come cuddle with me on the couch, and you share ALL of your soda with me, and I'll be SO PROUD of you for sharing so nicely, and we'll spend time together. Doesn't that sound good?
Y, confused as hell: Uh...huh. Well, I guess that sounds nice. Ok!

I come downstairs, see Elan's dinner untouched, and him happily chugging Coke on his daddy's lap. "Y! What the hell is this?"
Y, sheepishly, "He just had a better idea...Hell, I am so turned around, the kid is a politician!"

I realized then that Elan had great power over Y, and that I'd have to be the discriminating one.

It seems, however, that I am not entirely immune: apparently, Ariel is the one who can work me over. Last night, I was trying to get him into pajamas, and he was cranky, fighting it. I get the dirty diaper off of him, but before I can replace it he rolls out of my grasp, lounges half-naked on his father's side of the bed. Then, of course, he starts to pee.

"Ariel! Come on! You can't just pee on someone's bed!" He starts giggling. More harshly, not smiling, I repeat, "No, Ariel! That's not nice." He stops laughing, focuses on my eyes with his own huge sable ones. "Soddy, Mommy" is what comes out of his mouth, as his arms wrap around my neck.

Say what?

"OH MY G-D DID YOU JUST SAY YOU'RE SORRY?!!!" I exclaim, smothering him with kisses. "Soddy Mommy," he repeats. "Soddy." I keep up the kissing and hugging attack, mentioning the words Freakin' Genius more than once. I can't believe my little baby is seriously apologizing to me.

Well. Young Ariel learns quick. For the rest of the night, and most of the day, whenever I change my tone of voice, whenever he senses frustration coming from me, he immediately supplies me with the doe-eyed "Soddy, Mommy" and I forget anything and everything except how incredibly wonderful and delicious and edible he is. He knows what he's doing, too -- he only apologizes when it makes sense. For dancing in bed when he should have been napping: "Soddy, Mommy!" when I enter the room and admonish him. He plops horizontal. Suddenly, I have a change of heart, decide to stay in the room, stroking his hair and singing to him until he's out cold.

And so on.

Elan is no better than me, faced with Ariel's seduction. Ariel head-butted Elan's stomach this morning, and Elan got really mad. Before he could react, however, Ariel fixed him one of those looks, placed his hands on his brother's cheeks, and offered a "Soddy, Nahn," followed by an around-the-waist bear hug. Elan was knocked off his feet, and stood there, locked in the embrace, kissing Ariel's head for a good two minutes. He had no idea what else to do, suddenly touched and confused, and he sure as hell wasn't angry anymore.

I know that maybe I shouldn't forgo all consequence just because of his likely-empty words of apology, but apparently, I am rendered stupid in the face of this child's wild-haired, wide-eyed, cherry-lipped powers of manipulation, and after each incident, like Y with Elan, am left dumbfounded, and somehow...happier than I was before.

It'll stop being cute, soon, I'm sure. In the meantime, "soddy," all you parents who think I'm spoiling my child rotten. This is one wave I'm just gonna ride out.