My son is, for a few more days anyway, three years old. Therefore it will not surprise you when I tell you that there are times when I wonder whether or not we are raising some sort of inhuman demon, either completely oblivious to the pain that he causes others, or worse, enjoying it. “Is there any humanity at all in there?” I wonder, as he throws the pointy cat at his sister and laughs an evil laugh.
This morning, as I was asking him to get ready for the day so that I could go get dressed and for the day as well, he ran over to me, stood right at crotch level, extended both of his arms, and then clapped his hands together as hard as he could, directly into an area that I like to call the “No-Clap Zone.” I roared in pain, turned to face him, and if there was no murderous intent in my heart, it was surely in my eyes. He scampered off, up the stairs before I was able to stop him, so I limped up after him, ready to either pounce or collapse.
When I got upstairs I found him in the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain back. He then turned the water on in the tub and pulled the little thingy up to start the shower. “I got your shower ready for you Daddy!” he called out, as he ran past me and down the stairs to watch Curious George. Now, I suppose one could look at this as the cold and calculating move of a person hoping to get out of trouble, trying to melt my heart with an act of kindness. Well, if that’s the case then it worked. Because to me this act was my son showing me that he did care that he hurt me, and that he felt bad about it. So, for a few minutes at least, I am convinced that he is a sweet boy with a good heart who is just a little too exuberant sometimes. And I may be guilty of that myself from time to time, so I guess we’re all good. Until he does something else…