Tuck is perfecting his art of selective listening, so I am thereby working on the discipline of obedience.
Obey has become the most frequently used word in my vocabulary.
"Tucker, come here, please. Tucker, come here. Tuck, what did Mommy say? Come here. Obey, please."
Obey, obey, obey. He may begin to believe that his middle name is actually Obey. Tucker Obey. They fit together quite nicely, actually.
A few days ago, we were picking up a few essentials at Super Walmart. (Tuck calls it WahNart. And, he can recognize the sign. Leave it to my kids to master that environmental print before any other!) I had both kids with me and only room for one to ride, which is the nature of my role as a temporary single mom.
So, I negotiated with Tucker: he could walk on his own with his hands secured safely in his pockets, or he could ride on the end of the cart, like the garbage man. He alternated, which worked nicely, for the most part. Well, for the first third of the trip. Then, he lost interest in the whole process. I was patting myself on the back for the brilliance of teaching him to keep his hands in his pockets... until I saw him sniffing and licking a banana. No touching, but licking. He just had to check out that banana, and his sense of touch had been debilitated. What was he to do??
I'm pretty sure I gasped aloud. It's okay if you did too, just now, as you read that paragraph and pictured it in your very own grocery store. (Hence, we brought the coveted banana home with us. Fear not.)
As his interest waned in the posture of the garbage man, he walked alongside me. At one point, i was ready to round the corner to another aisle, and I said, "Here we go, Tuck. Hop on."
He wasn't listening. I started walking.
Suddenly, this is what I heard: "Mommy, stop! Mommy, wait! Mommy, OBEY!"
I did stop. In my tracks. Sorry, dude. It doesn't work that way. You don't get to demand my obedience. That word does not reciprocate in this relationship.
Oh, this language process. Ever a journey.