Dare to dream

To my best recollection, Will's first obvious attempt at a parental coup came about during my dad's visit this fall. We were driving in the car when Will piped up from his car seat in back with this gem, "Hey, Mommy, I can do whatever I want and you can't do anything about it."

After a quick eyebrow raise to my dad I retorted with, "In your dreams, friend."

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. This morning, on the way to daycare, Will decided that "school is boring" and that he's "already learned enough."

Wow. OK kid, how about if we just postpone this conversation for, oh, say 19 years from now when we're debating the merits of graduate school? Huh?

Now, Scott and I aren't really ones to withhold praise when Will does something good, but we're not really going to hold back when he gets cocky to this degree either. We started a mom-dad volley of "things Will needs to learn" that lasted until the Iola IGA was in view.

"Fine!" was his response accompanied by arms crossed tightly across his little chest. (Seriously ... is this child 3 or 13?)

Anyway, I started thinking about this later because Will's Grandma Linda and I were discussing why Will's developed this tendency to call things "boring." (Of course, being a grandma, her theory involves the influence of other daycare children who couldn't be nearly as good and pure as Will.)

Tonight, I decided to try a new tactic that tied in with the baby. I told Will a story about Baby Will who, when he was born, didn't know how to eat solid food or talk or even lift up his head ... Baby Will LOVED to learn and that's why Big Boy Will knows how to run and jump and do all sort of fun things. So that's why Will needs to keep learning and go to school. Pretty good lesson, I thought, and said good night. Instead of sleeping, I could tell Will was going to get all fidgety ... the blankets came off, then he needed the sheet flattened out, "Mommy? Could you turn on the music? and "Why is the dark so dark?"

"Will, it's time to lay down and go to sleep," I said in my stern Mommy voice. "Stop trying to touch your feet to your head and lay still and get some rest."

That's when his sweet little voice said, "Mommy? Can you please leave now?"

Huh? Sure.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Will?"

"I like it when you leave because then I can do whatever I want."

Sweet dreams, friend.