The kids had strawberries and blueberries in the living room today as a special treat. Well, not really - they were destined to have strawberries and blueberries because Sebastian has had visions of this moment for weeks. "Mom, I would like strawberries and blueberries for a snack because when I close my eyes I see strawberries and blueberries and so you need to give me strawberries and blueberries for a snack. That's what I see when I close my eyes. LET'S GO!"
I don't know where he got the idea - we haven't had non-frozen berries for months - but he did figure out that if you keep repeating something to the person who grocery shops, you will eventually get the snack you see when you close your eyes. This is his Psychic Technique.
When Sebastian was done with his snack, he jumped up and made me an offer: "Mom, I would like you to be my helper. Would you like to be my helper? You can please take the bowl into the kitchen and be my helper. Please take my bowl into the kitchen to help. That would be REALLY GREAT!"
Of course, when he said it, it came out as "WEAWY GWEAT!" so I couldn't refuse. First, he asked for help (a huge four-year-old lesson). Second, he was cleaning up after himself (another HUGE four-year-old lesson). Third, he said please which is an old lesson but good practice. And lastly, he was totally using one of my tactics on me. I love my helpers - they shove wet laundry in the dryer, put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and feed the dog. If I want to keep my helpers, I probably needed to take a minute to give back when asked.
I thanked him for asking so nicely and promptly picked up the bowl. I knew as I smiled and walked into the kitchen that I was going to have to be judicious in agreeing to be a helper so Sebastian doesn't just delegate everything. I made a note in my mind to find an opportunity to say no later. That opportunity came two hours later when Sebastian finished playing with his trains.
"Mom! How about you be my helper and pick up my train? Then you can be my helper!"
I looked up from my book. "No thank you. You can pick it up because you were the one playing with it! You can do it, it won't be hard."
Sebastian's smug little smile melted off his face and morphed into surprise. It wasn't shock - this was the only time he had used the Helper Technique, so he knew there was a chance it might not work - but it was definitely not quite happy.
"FINE!" he shouted, turning and running to the couch. He spun into the corner, sat cross-legged, and threw his arms across his body. "Then I'm NOT gonna be the BEST BOY ANYMORE!"
Ahhhh, The Threat - a classic and not Sebastian-specific technique, but one he got from me. He has made it his own with this Best Boy business. I have no idea where he got it - I don't recall ever threatening to not be the Best Mom ANYMORE though I kind of want to try it to see if it will be effective with him. He does it pretty often and mixes it up so sometimes it's a threat, as above, and sometimes it's a mumbled lamentation ("I broke that thing and now I can't be the Best Boy anymore..."). It's a last resort, but it's definitely a go-to.
I looked at him. He looked at me. I cocked an eyebrow. He pushed his lower lip out and gave me puppy dog eyes. I started laughing. He looked confused. I laughed louder. He did too.
So we sat in the living room and laughed and laughed. Audrey joined in because she also loves to laugh. Sebastian laughed so hard he fell over and hit the couch cushions with his hand. Within two minutes, we had teared up and were sighing. Then we picked up the trains together.
Next time he needs something, he'll probably try to use the Loud Laughing Technique. I can't wait.
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