No, dear readers, this was not what I was chanting to myself when faced with the world's most beautiful statement necklace, while at the Kate Spade store this weekend (apparently, I need to just live there), this was Little Man chanting to himself in a low grade whine while a friend played with his dump truck. It went on for a full fifteen minutes and only ended when I had had enough and put him on the Stairs of Shame. I refuse to call it the Naughty Step, even though I do enjoy Supernanny. Now this was not his most prized possession. In fact, this dump truck had not seen the light of day in many months, until it was unearthed from the depths of the toy box by a visitor. But upon sight, it became my son's obsession and an otherwise lovely morning was nearly spoiled and caused me to have a revelation. Sharing sucks.
I shouldn't say that. I suppose what I really mean is teaching someone to share sucks. When you think about it, sharing goes against our most basic instincts of self-preservation. Instead of keeping all of what you have such as food, water - or in this case, Tonka trucks - you give some to another person with no tangible benefit to yourself. Yes, there is the emotional benefit of altruism, but altruism doesn't fill your belly. So how do you teach someone, who is basically a walking id, that the good feeling you get from letting someone else play with your favorite toy is worth the suckage of not being able to play with that toy yourself? The teaching of taking turns softens the blow, knowing you will eventually get to experience the nirvana of holding this coveted piece of plastic in your hot little hand (only to discard it seconds later), but delayed gratification is not a soon-to-be-three-year-old's strongest suit.
Speaking of delayed gratification, another not-so-fun concept to teach a child is waiting in line. Or not, as the case may be, with all the kids who felt free to cut in front of Little Man in line for the slides at Land of Make Believe. I even saw some parents watch their kid jump the line and do nothing about it, I assume they thought it some kind of Darwinian exercise in survival of the water-park fittest and that, perhaps, fostering a strong go-for-it mentality would serve their child later in life. Personally, I think these are the same people who cause concert tramplings. It is hard, unpleasant work, creating a functional member of a society, especially when not everybody is on board. All the passive-aggressive his-Mommy-isn't making-him-follow-the rules,-but-it-doesn't-mean-it's-OKs in the world don't make up for the fact that the kid in the Sponge Bob trunks gets to go down the pirate slide again.*
Parenting may seem like an impossible task at times, especially when you are fighting millions of years of evolution, trying to get your kid to give his sister half of the last granola bar. But like not defecating indoors**, these rules are what separate us from the animals. Then again, if you've ever been to a New Jersey waterpark on a 90-degree August day, perhaps we aren't so separate at all.
*Or until your mother gives him such a nasty stink eye he runs over to his mother. Your mother then gives her the stink eye, frightening her from saying anything at all.
** I have begun potty-training Little Man. Post to come. Sigh.
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