THE ART OF NEGOTATION

This morning while I was making the scrambled eggs, Huck came to me with a rather unique opportunity.

"Mom," he said in his very serious business-like tone. "Mom, I will eat all my scrambled eggs . . . if I get to watch movies on TV first. WIFFOUT bones." 

"Wiffout bones" is the term Huck came up with to differentiate between kid shows that are made up of live action actors and shows that are made up of animation. Bones means real people are in it, no bones means just . . . ink? is in it? The first time he brought this up to me I was so confused. "Mom, is this a Mulan wiff bones?" Why would Mulan not have bones, Huck? Of course Mulan has bones!? It reminded me of the time my 6th grade gym teacher asked me if I'd always had a mouth on me and when I said yes, because, duh, I had to run a mile as punishment for talking back. Anyway, Mulan came on and of course it's a cartoon, and Huck was so exasperated with me for being so slow, and okay, I get it now. Because cartoons don't have bones, and blood rhymes with flood, and wouldn't it be so weird if we floated to the ceiling in our blood and, like, swam around in it and stuff? So just the other day when Huck said to me me, "Well, I like the Grinch wiff bones because he falled down and it was funny. But the Grinch wiffout bones is sort of scary," I was able to nod along as though it made complete sense to me. 

Making deals and striking negotiations with the four-and-under set is not always so simple as an easy one-off cartoon-for-scrambled-egg trade. Especially when you're dealing with a four-year-old who is still making up words for things. Hell, I'm still making up words for things. But deal-making and peace talks and defining terms and endless go rounds on contract stipulations is just what you do when you're a mother to a four-year-old. Sit still, and then you can have your cupcake. Ask nicely, and then I will get you a cup of milk. Put the movies on wiffout the bones, and then I will eat my breakfast. No I will not go to the bathroom before we leave, because I do not feel like washing my hands right now. 

The one we go around on the most has to do with Huck's skin. Huck sometimes suffers from eczema. It's not terrible, I've seen cases much worse, but if his immune system is compromised, or if he's been spending too much time in the sun and not enough time drinking water, his skin will break out in these angry red splotches around his mouth, elbows, and knees, and the ointments will sting, and he will insist that he likes being scratchy, and of course he won't soak in an oatmeal bath, he doesn't even like to eat oatmeal, why on earth would he want to sit in it? 

But then there are the things you do as a mom that aren't open to discussion. "No, and that's final." "Do it, and do it NOW." Like holding my hand when we cross the street. Not running on the sidewalks. Wearing our seat belts in the car. Saying "please" and "thank you." Sitting still on the subway. Not picking your nose and eating it (that is the sword I will fall on, I swear it. You do NOT eat your boogers, Huck). "Because I said so" is my favorite thing in the world to say, and strangely enough, Huck seems accept it without much complaint, I suppose because I use it pretty infrequently. Or more likely because I have a real scary Mean Mom face. 

It looks a lot like my regular face. ;)