Sunday, July 6, 2008

Who's The Mommy?

They say kids grow up fast, but I don't think you ever really know what that means until you become a parent. It's hard to believe that little man is already 2 years old. But then again, when I think back at all of the adventures we've had, it's hard to believe he's only 2 years old.

Especially when I look at old pictures.


This is little man when he was fresh and new. He was pefectly happy as long as he was fed every three hours, had his binky and had a warm body to cuddle up to. He loved to snuggle. And he always had a willing participant ... who wouldn't want to snuggle with that?

And then he grew up.

And my once sweet, snuggly, calm little baby boy, well ...


Let's just say he found his spunk.

Lately, little man has also definitely found his voice. Like any normal 2-year-old, little man has found lots of trouble lately.

"No, you can't play with knives."

"No, you can't mix chocolate milk and apple juice."

"No, don't chase the dog with the hockey stick. He is not a puck."

However, instead of throwing a common, and to be expected, 2-year-old tantrum when mommy tells him "no," my brilliant little man has devised a new argument as of late:

"I'm the mommy."

I do have to admit, the first time he sprung this new argument on me, I was taken back. "What does he mean?" I thought to myself.

Then I realized I wasn't giving little man enough credit - if he was the mommy, he got to make the rules. Can't say I didn't bring this one upon myself. I have been guilty of the "Because I'm the mommy and I said so" quip. I just didn't expect to hear it being thrown back at me. I could suddenly hear my mom's voice uttering those same words to me 27 years ago.

Then there was a pang of anger ... not that my once sweet and snuggly little man was arguing with me. It was because I hadn't thought of that argument when I was his age. I have to admit, there was a part of me that was impressed with his quick thinking and wit. However, I couldn't let him know that. I had to maintain my authority.

So I put on my best mean mommy face.

"If you're the mommy, who am I then?" I asked back, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer.

Little man sat for a moment, pondering his response.

"You're the mom."

And then my quick-witted little son ran off. I thought I had won the battle; I had maintained my authority.

Then, my son stopped, and looked back at me.

"I'm the mommy," he said.

So much for my best mean mommy face.

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