I'm only asking because every time I've asked my darling son Rollie to do something, wouldn't you know it, he goes and does the EXACT FREAKING OPPOSITE.
So our day started at 5 a.m. My husband deposited Rollie in our bed as he (Jeff) was getting ready for work. I was barely conscious, but I knew that a.) it was still quite dark out, b.)Lazytown wasn't even on yet, c.) Rollie was kicking me in the back so as to thwart my attempts to get back to sleep.
I rolled over and croaked, "Rollie, please stop kicking me."
He stopped momentarily, but just as I was drifting off to the slightly effeminate voice of The Ferocious Beast on TV, I felt little toes digging into my back again.
That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the morning....
We're getting ready to go on our morning walk, and in our garage is a large puddle from the recent rain. I ask Rollie to go around the puddle, even phrasing it all cutesy and sweet, even though my head hurts and all I want to do is lie on the couch in the AC and drink coffee.
Me: Rollie, sweetie, go around that yucky puddle so you don't get your toes all wet. (I know, gag me, right?)
What does Rollie do? Walks right through it. Stops in the middle of it and stomps, sending dirty water up his legs and onto his shirt. Sigh.
Me: Rollie, what are you doing? I asked you to go around the puddle. Now come here!
Rollie looks up at me, stomps again, and then turns and walks in the opposite direction.
Me: HEY! I said come here! What is with you today?
Rollie stands on the other side of the garage, just looking at me like I'm crazy for yelling. I start to feel like I am crazy, my angry voice echoing in our open garage as neighbors walk by with obedient little dogs on leashes, pretending not to notice the power struggle two houses down.
Me: Rollie, come here and get in this stroller right now or it's no tricycle today (lately he loves his tricycle more than life itself).
I think that's what did it. A little threat never fails, right?
But then later this morning, Rollie and Elsa are in the family room playing as I'm dashing around the house in preparation for our morning outing, when I hear Elsa start to cry.
I drop the armload of laundry (my dirty, horny laundry) and hurry to the family room, where I see Rollie sitting on Elsa's back like he's at a rodeo.
"Rollie, get off her--you're hurting her!"
Rollie looks up at me like I'm speaking Italian. And he doesn't budge.
"Rollie," I say, striding across the room, "you are way too big to sit on Baby Elsa. Get off!"
Finally, as I'm about to grab him and physically remove him from his perch, he rolls to one side, his foot purposely bumping her head as he dismounts. She lets out another yell.
"Rollie!" I grab his arm and yank him to his feet (dear God, I've turned into an arm-yanker again). "Get in your room!" Lately it is the only thing I can think of to do...send him to his room. I don't want to spank him, yelling is clearly ineffective, and all the toys in the vicinity of his latest crime are Elsa's, so I can't take one away to make my point.
But instead of shuffling off to his bedroom in a cloud of defeat, Rollie stands firm, looks me in the eye and yells back, "No!"
Arrrggghhhh....Did I mention it was not yet nine o'clock when this was going on?
Anyway, I pick him up and deliver him to his room, where I tell him in as calm a voice as I can muster that he has to stay there until we leave because he's being way too naughty to be around me right now.
He pops out two minutes later, stomps into the family room and proceeds to throw his Geotrax train set around the room.
Okay, so let's assume that he's trying to get my attention. Or that he's ridiculously over-tired. Or that he's got some sort of beef with the Fischer-Price company and has decided to take it out on their merchandise. Whatever is causing him to behave like Satan's Spawn, I am pretty clueless what to do about it except envision myself alone on a beautiful white-sand beach somewhere, Mai-Tai in one hand, latest Dean Koontz book in the other, hearing nothing but the sigh of gentle blue waves and the occasional seagull cry overhead. That is my happy place, that's how I'm not turning into an arm-yanking spank-machine. That's how I'm going to get through the rest of the day....
But seriously, if it IS Opposite Day, will someone please let me know??