Well. We Showed Him. Or Not.

Dinnertime. N's in a pissy mood, as is his new 3-year-old norm. He begins demanding a cup of milk before I've even served him his dinner. If N had his way, he would drink milk 24/7, and never eat a bite of food. So the rule is no milk until after dinner. Which is exactly what I tell him, offering him water instead. He continues to demand milk, lapsing into an occasional shriek, but eventually realizes I'm serious. So, after eating about half his dinner, he tries another tack.

"I want juice."

"OK, N. But we only have cranberry mango."

"No. I want orange juice."

"We don't have orange juice."

"Yes! I show you."

At this point he leads Baroy over to the fridge, where he points to a quart of grapefruit juice.

"That's not orange juice, N. That's grapefruit juice. You don't like that."

"I want orange juice."

"We don't have orange juice."

"I want milk."

"You can't have milk."

"I WANT ORANGE JUICE! I WANT MILK!"

Nerves shot, totally exasperated, I notice that Baroy has his customary Diet Coke on the table.

"Hey, how about some soda, N?"

He considers it, casting one final longing glance at the milk. "OK."

As he hops onto his chair and start sipping at his dad's soda, I smile at Baroy, victorious. He's stopped whining, and I didn't have to give in to him. I was firm. I was consistent. I was...duped!

I think it hits Baroy and I at the same time.

"How did he DO that?" I ask. "How did he get us to talk him out of milk and grapefruit juice in favor of a soda?"

Baroy just shakes his head.

That kid is little, but he's good. Man, he's good.