Grandpa took Boy #3 ice fishing last week. This was a special event - getting away from your brothers and of course, Grandpa has much better snacks than at home. And he lets you eat as much as you want. (Unlike some mean mommies we know.)
Well, apparently Grandpa was going the extra mile and provided pop for our precocious little three-year-old. Only, it got partially spilled. Then it had to be set down while the men did “serious” fishing. And then (I think I got this story straight), lines were tangled, which isn’t hard to imagine when you think of fishing with a preschooler. So Grandpa was trying to do it all and somebody decided he wanted a drink. Now.
Well, Grandpa said no, not now. Little Sassy Pants replied in a huff, “Fine! I’m never coming fishing with you ever again!”
(At this point, hearing the story, I am completely mortified. Then I wonder how I can blame those genes on my husband...)
Grandpa took the attitude in stride and replied, “That’s okay - your brothers will come fishing with me.”
(I hate to even write this...)
“No, Grandpa, they’re not gonna come fishing with you ever again either!”
I’m pretty sure his two older brothers wouldn’t agree with #3’s statement, but he was positive about it. At least Grandpa has been laughing about the whole thing and doesn’t seem too put off by the grief his grandson gave him.
I find it endlessly fascinating and very embarrassing at how emphatic and bold this child is. He can look me straight in the eye after I’ve told him to pick up his toys and say, “No!” without so much as a twinge of remorse - until he sees the Tabasco sauce bottle come out.
He is so quick to justify his behavior, to demand his demands, to spew, “Fine! I don’t like you anymore!” that I worry it’s more than a stage. Part of it I know is his personality - he is simply quick-witted - and part of it I suppose is just human nature.
We are selfish, demanding, unsympathetic and sassy at times - even to God. We make demands during our prayers and huff if they’re not answered. We whine about what we have to do and sniffle about whatever ails us. We sometimes aren’t all that happy and we let God know all about it. We’re as impossible to please as an ornery three-year-old. Especially when we don’t get our way.
“Fine! I’m not coming fishing with you ever again!”
I wonder if God has Tabasco sauce.
