So yesterday, when I wasn't observing other parents and offering helpful hints on how to raise their children, I was actually at Dave and Buster's with Sam. And stay tuned because I am going to use this particular post to prove that I am no saint when it comes to being a parent.
Sam and I had lunch before we hit the video games. We had a lovely waitress named Christine who served our burgers and chicken fingers. I had to convince Sam not to hug her and tell her she was "hot", but he did tell her she was "beautiful and lovely" anyway.
"Beautiful and lovely" is something I taught him to say as an alternative to the gropy sound of "hot" (as in "I grope, you grope, we grope"). Since he enjoys complimenting women, I figured "beautiful and lovely" was likely to be both charming and PG to most women.
After lunch, he hit the video racing games -- his favorites. He's quite good at them. I am quite bad. I challenged him to one game and he still won despite owning a driver's license myself.
And yes, this is Sam's ideal form of playing.
So here's the downside of spending three hours at Dave and Buster's: Sam kind of gets in this zone (I think it's the wild abandon zone for those of you who've been reading along...). And at this point, he's convinced that he really drove there himself in his video car and that gimpy Mom with the post-op knee is completely superfluous. He's got his game card loaded with video cash and the world is his oyster.
It's at this point that I approach him about wrapping up the games so we can leave. He ignores me a little and then flat out refuses. So I'm looking at this 6'1" super-recalcitrant male who is refusing to leave. I try reasoning with him, giving him a time limit, negotiating other options and he continues to flat out refuse. And I just kind of lose it for a minute. "Screw you", I said, "Next time you can drive yourself!"
In this moment, I am not proud of myself and yet, I know I have been up against a worthy adversary. Oddly enough, this seems to get through to him. Nice that such language made an impact -- proof that I don't usually talk to him like this, Thank Jesus. Of course I realize this this opens me up to blog post retribution like: "To the Horrible Mother Who Told Her Son, 'Screw You!'" Of course, nothing is worse than my self-retribution for losing it like that.
By the time we get to the car, he is laughing (he knows I am crazy). He looks at me and says, "You say 'Screw You' to me!" Then we are both laughing and I am calling him Mr. Too Big for His Britches. We decide to go to Dairy Queen for the dessert we didn't get at lunch, and go home. So he can play some more video games.