Monday, June 3, 2013

The Art Of Manipulation Is Not Pretty

You know how sometimes kids will whine and cry for a special toy, then show no interest when you break down and buy it for them? They don't grow out of that. It's just an exercise in manipulation.

Every week the #1 son knows of nothing he wants when we shop for groceries. When The Pony and I return, laden with foodstuffs, #1 sees what others have requested. He must consume those items above all other sustenance. Froot Loops? The boy hasn't touched cereal in over six months. But suddenly, he desires the Froot Loops that The Pony has picked out for his breakfast. The Slim Jims that Farmer H dips into for a meaty snack suddenly turn into $10,000 per kilo Beluga caviar. "What do you mean, leave it alone? We don't hoard food in this house! It's not marked specifically for only one person! That's crazy!" Yet when my mom sends home four glazed donut twists, and tells me specifically that two are for me, and two are for #1, he screams like an overheated teakettle. "Those are for ME! Grandma sent them to ME. You should not have taken one." Then he lets two go stale and, and I throw them away.

Yesterday #1 asked for French Toast Sticks. The frozen kind, like strips of bread. "Don't get those break-apart kind for the toaster. They're terrible. I want the oven kind."

"All right. I'll have to go to Save A Lot for those. That's where I always get them."

"I'm so sure Walmart doesn't have regular French Toast Sticks."

"Well, when I got them there one time, you said they were no good, and you wouldn't eat them."

"I never did that. Get them today when you go."

This morning at 10:30, #1 told me to make him French Toast Sticks. This, while he was laying on the couch fiddling with his laptop.

"No. You are 18 years old. You can make your own French Toast Sticks. They're in a box in the freezer. There is already foil on a pizza pan. All you have to do is put them on the pan and into the oven."

"That's too hard. I'm just going to microwave them."

"What's the point of that? They'll be mushy. You might as well have the toaster kind."

"You don't know how much I was wishing in my head that you'd just gotten the toaster kind when I found out I was going to have to make them myself."

For the record, after his microwaved French Toast Sticks, #1 made two pieces of toast in the toaster, and covered them with butter and a whole bowl of cinnamon and sugar.

4 comments:

Sioux said...

Can you hear the rewritten Lou Rawls song?

"Oh, you're gonna miss his whinin'.
You're gonna miss his whinin'.
Oh, you're gonna miss his whinin'.
You're gonna miss, you're gonna miss...his whinin'."

College starts soon. (I'm back. Three nights and three days without electricity. Mother Nature is a *itch.)

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
I'm sure he will find a way to call home and whine or complain. It will be like he never left. He'll call and demand that I make him a sandwich and drive it down to Rolla before bedtime. And, while I'm there, it would be an act of young-adult-neglect to step over his pile of dirty laundry without washing, drying, ironing, and hanging it.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

This will make it easier to watch him go.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
Yes, he's hacking at the apron strings with his sharp tongue.