The Dark Side

Now that Finny is using and understanding language, David and I are fully exploiting him in front of friends and family. “Finny, Finny, Finny!” We find ourselves saying, “Where’s your belly button?” And then “OHHHH!” we yell as he points to it, almost always missing the mark by about four inches. “Finny, Finny, Finny! What does the cow say?” And then, “YEAH!!! Good boy!” we beam as he wraps his teeth around his bottom lip and hums, “Mmmmm.”

This, you may say, is not exploitation, but rather normal, proud parent behavior. While I am proud of all the new things Finny can say and understand, I am not proud, however, of some of the tricks I’ve pulled on him now that I know how much he understands. In fact, I am a little horrified to be confronted with my dark side as I find myself using some underhanded tactics to get him to do what I want. Lying, bribery, manipulation—I’m apparently not above any of them.

I once thought of myself as a fairly decent person. I let people ahead of me in traffic, I contemplated shoveling my elderly neighbor’s driveway (Does the thought count here?), I do not have extramarital affairs, I go to church every weekend, and I write thank-you notes, sometimes two-three months late, but I write them all the same. But lately, my good guy image has been tarnished by the dirty, rotten tricks I’m playing on my sixteen-month-old son, who is learning rather quickly that language, though useful, can also be a powerful tool for manipulation.

A couple weeks ago, I needed to go to the grocery store to get some things for dinner, and Finny wanted nothing to do with his car seat. He kicked and thrashed and arched his back and I could not get the buckle around him, so do you know what I said? “Finny, we’re going to see Jane!” He immediately beamed and willingly complied as he giggled, “Jay! Jay! Jay!” I was so ashamed. I looked him right in the eye and said, “Finny, I’m sorry. We’re not going to see Jane. Mommy lied to you. We’re going to the grocery store.” He didn’t get it and halfway to the grocery store he forgot about the whole thing and ended up having fun cruising the aisles and chomping on Cheerios. But my dark side was out.

Then, just yesterday, I tried to bribe him. He was sitting in his high chair, kicking his legs, anxiously waiting for me to slice him more banana and just as I was about to grant his request, I stopped short. “Finny, do you want some banana?” Yes, he beamed. “Okay, then say Mama.”

Who am I and what’s next?! Pins under the fingernails? Water boarding? Lies, bribes, deceit—will I stop at nothing to get what I want? Withholding food from my toddler to get him to say Mama—what kind of cruel narcissist lives here?

And what will he say next when he catches on? “Finny, Finny, Finny! What does the mommy say?”

“Lies! All lies!” He’ll exclaim.

And then, yesterday afternoon, I got a taste of my own medicine. While Finny was busy playing with his twenty-five choo-choos on the family room floor, I smelled a poopie. “Finny,” I asked, “Did you poop?”

Not wanting to give up his play for a diaper changing, he smiled and shook his head back and forth.

Lies! All lies! Like looking in a mirror.