Actually, the only thing he really knows he wants is an opinion. As in, "I want the blue plate. I don't like green." on Monday and "Green is my favorite color, I want the green spoon" on Tuesday. And these are not just opinions, these are hardcore opinions. These are meltdown opinions. These are "scream-at-the-top-of-my-lungs-until-Mom-throws-me-in-my-room-and-then-scream-some-more" opinions. Who knew stirring the grape nuts into his yogurt instead of leaving them on top was cause for total implosion? Not I ... until about 1.3 seconds too late.
The thing I can't figure out is that, even though it never works, he still goes bat-crazy on me every morning. I pour his milk into the "wrong" cup and suddenly the world collapses around him. I have perfected a wrestling hold to keep his limbs from flailing at my face on the way up the stairs.
Right about now, most of you are saying to yourselves, "Lucian?? Is that the Lucian I know? But he's so sweet/quiet/compliant/fill-in-the-blank!" Ha! His plot is working. He's got you all wrapped around his finger. But I know the truth. Right around 7:08 every morning, I am living through the truth of a kid who wants what he wants, when he wants it, how he wants it.
|Yeah, Mom, how do you sleep at night?|