Not satisfied with the current state of uncertainty regarding the pecking order of the executive leadership at home, I asked T2 whether he told Daddy that he didn’t need my permission to play the iPhone. He opened his eyes wide and said as a matter-of-factly,
“If it is Daddy’s iPhone, I should ask his permission. If it’s your iPhone I should ask your permission. And the PSP is mine so I don’t need anyone’s permission.”
Obviously this guy here is not well versed with the current political affairs of our national household, because everyone who desires a long, peaceful and cake-enriched life knows it’s the mommy who rules the roost. T2, bless his tender age, is still under this naive impression that the normal rules of the game apply.
“So you don’t think I’m the boss, do you?” I thought we’d better clarify this point once and for all, and disabuse his young unlearned mind of any ambiguity over such matter. It’s important that we establish a clear chain of command, because you can’t run a household if you don’t got respect, you know?
“Nope. Daddy’s the boss.”
“Because he’s bigger than you and he’s got more strength.” He flexes his arms to show off some imaginary muscles.
“And Daddy is older than you.” He may have a point there.
“And,” he delivers the stinker, “Daddy makes more money than you.”
Ouch. I didn’t see that one coming.
This kid’s unshakeable. I’m just going to slink off to my Mommy corner and lick my wounds.
momsterthoughts 