That’s No Angel, That’s My Son!

True, I’ve written on this theme before, but here we are again.

True, sometimes I look at Noah and my heart is so overcome with love and awe that the term angelic does come to mind.

But let’s get real.

Even with an extra 21st chromosome, Noah is just a hair shy of being an angel.

For a week or so now when I ask him to do something he doesn’t feel like doing, he signs “cry” and is not inclined to do it until I pretend to cry.  His response to my “crying” is to erupt in giggles and sign “cry” again.  This goes on until I put on my mad mommy face and pull out my ace in the hole, “Noah, obey.”

I think he learned the power of the teardrop from 4-year-old Seth whom I caught red-handed being told no by Daddy, running to Mama, bursting into tears, and then immediately upon Daddy changing the no to a yes based on additional information, Seth stopped crying and ran beaming to the kitchen.  Absolutely no transition time whatsoever.  Made me look like I must be a real sucker for tears when Daddy’s not around.

Sigh.

At this point I would tend to shed a discouraged tear or two, but since nobody is around, it won’t do me any good.

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