"No pat brothers," he huffed at me. "That's not very nice!"
The boys and I were on our way home from the other side of the state, having celebrated my grandmother's 93rd birthday this weekend. We had stopped about midway home, to get some gas in the truck, and I was trying to get a drink out of the cooler that was sitting in front of Sawyer. And he thought it was fun to kick Mommy the whole time she was trying to get her drink (not exactly helpful). So the "pat" was actually a swat at his little leg, you know, the one that kept kicking me even after several verbal requests to stop. The verbal didn't do so much. The "pat" did. He stopped kicking and started whimpering. And that's where big brother stepped in.
"No pat brothers. That's not very nice! Be nice to brothers!"
Mommy looked at him and explained that sometimes Mommy does "pat" her boys, especially when they're doing something that's not very nice and when they won't stop when Mommy asks them to. Like when they're doing things that are hurtful to others (say kicking them) or when they're not listening and minding the people who are taking care of them.
That one hit home, I'm sure.
Last weekend Grammy told us a story about Connor. On their trip to the zoo, he was having a hard time listening to Grammy. He kept wandering off, which was scary since the zoo was extremely crowded (first warm Saturday of the season) and they also had Great Grandma Kitty with them, who was in a wheel chair for such a long journey. Grammy had to "pat him on the bottom" and he didn't think too much of that at all. I believe his exact words (quoted by Grammy) were:
"Grammy no pat Connor on the bottom. It's not nice to pat on the bottom. Grammy be nice!"
And through it all, you must see the pitiful face that accompanies such words. There's the pouty lower lip and the really big, sad eyes. And the normally loud voice turns soft and sad.
Oh, he's good at, let me tell you. But don't let him fool you. The minute he gets his way he's back to doing what you just asked him not to do.
And if you're wondering, everyone was well for the rest of our trip home today. Sawyer's whimpering stopped the minute we were back in motion (his attention once again focused on Boog and Elliott from Open Season - the drive is a little over two hours each way, with only a few hours in between). Connor forgot about "patting" anyone and went back to jabbering about anything and everything, and Xander simply continued sleeping. A typical, though not necessarily peaceful, drive home.
