THE KING'S REBELLION
There is a comedian named Louis CK that is very funny, if
you haven’t heard his stand-up, look him up for a good laugh. Anyway, he does a bit
about children that will resonate profoundly with most parents out there. The
gist: before becoming a parent himself, he used to see kids having a tantrum and parents
yelling at them and think to himself, ‘that poor child, what on earth did those
mean parents do to him.’ Now that he has kids, when he sees a kid in a
store flipping out over something, he thinks to himself as he looks at the mother, ‘that poor poor woman,
what did that mean child do to her this time.’ I’m paraphrasing, but you get
the gist.
As most parents out there know, there comes a point in
parenting when you realize that not only is parenting a challenge that tests
you from every angle, but some days you will seriously contemplate selling your
child on eBay (calm down, I love my kid, I’m not going to sell him unless I get
a really high offer for him). Of late, the King has become, well, a total and utter dictator. My
husband and I have prided ourselves on the fact that for the most part, the
King skated through the milestone phases with very little fanfare. He was
obstinate, sure, and had his bout of tantrums, but nothing like what we’d
see when we were out and about. We would almost sigh to one another in relief
behind closed doors as if we’d dodged some unruly child bullet. Then, as if the
universe was simply bored (or the King was), the King decided it was time to
see if the Kingdom was really paying attention. Gone was Mr. sweet and
agreeable that sang to me for an hour in the morning and in his place was 'Mr.
I’m Turning Four so you can stick your plans, wishes and directives where the
sun don’t shine.' Obviously I’m exaggerating, but in the heat of his 45-minute
meltdowns of late, it has certainly felt that way. The even more maddening part was that the King, in his shrewdness, saved this metamorphosis for my husband and I alone. Out on the streets, he knew well enough to remain the happy go lucky kid, so as not to ruin his reputation. (Their sagacity is so underestimated).
As any parent will attest (if they’re being honest), the
love you have for your kid is unwavering, but the like, well that comes and
goes with the wind – I’m thinking this really kicks in when one’s child becomes a
teenager. So, at the moment, when the King is flipping his lid because he wants
to ride home from school in a taxi (AS IF. No self respecting Londoner takes taxis, unless its on someone else's dime) or he doesn’t like
how I’ve cut his apple (I never said his requests were rational), I think to myself, you know what little person, you’re
not exactly my top choice of people to hang out with right now. The worst part
about this is like any phase you think, this is it; this is your kid from now
on. Gone is the sweet, tactile, goofy kid I once loved to saunter down the
street with and in his place is the Tasmanian devil jacked up on testosterone
and sheer blinding preschooler will.
The other humorous thing that begins to happen is that no
matter how much you dig your heels in as a parent (and trust me, I’m of
stubborn stock myself) so that these little despots don’t completely take over,
you find yourself walking on egg shells just so you don’t step on a landmine.
Often my husband and I will usurp the other’s authority just to keep the peace
(note to self: a united front is the ONLY way, the King is far too smart for this
and will divide and conquer). “Oh come on, just recut the apple into a C shape,
please, can’t you see he’s going to blow!!” This of course is not the best
course of action, but to avoid a tantrum that will make that one hour feel like four, sometimes you find yourself caving to
the capricious whims of these little creatures.
So at the moment, I am deep breathing, reminding myself that
no phase lasts forever, and am desperately trying to find the humor in all this, like the King
clearly does. The other day after a 45 minute crying fest over…that time I
think he didn’t like how I put the corn on his plate…he looked at me, having collected himself, with dry,
smiling eyes and said, ‘Mummy, I was just pretending to cry….can I watch
my movie now?’
Ah, the King, such a likeable little despot.