Whatever you do, don’t piss off Rowan. This 4 year old has plans for you. Plans that will only be unleashed it you piss him off though so, if you can avoid that, you’re cool. For now. But for the ones that piss him off? Well, I can assure you that his wrath will suck, preschool style.
Over time I have come to realize that although it is sort of funny to have a child that speaks like he’s David Attenborough and Kenneth Branagh (“The Mother Smilodon [that’s me] quietly creeps toward the kitchen to get juice for her young, but the sun suddenly blinds her. She stumbles over a log and falls to earth just as the predator attacks her, killing her instantly.”) the vocabulary that he is gleaning doesn’t quite match his comprehension. For example, after a particularly rough day at preschool where one child picked Rowan up and tried to toss him in a wagon, Rowan described his counter attack like this:
“Well, I took my razor sharp saber teeth and I sliced his lungs open so hard that one of my teeth broke off. I just attacked him and then tossed his body UP in the tree.” As if to say “no biggie.”
As I watched him describing this fictional retaliation, I realized that he is learning to deal with conflict by creating a response tantamount to his experience in the conflict. Because I can tell you that this kid does NOT like to be manhandled or wronged. And in the moment, he looks like a deer caught in headlights. A friend just told me after watching Rowan get tackled by a boy at school that during the tackle he looked like he couldn’t decide if he should like it or not. His confusion wasn’t over whether he DID like it (he is pretty clear on that) but whether he SHOULD. Poor little dude. Once he realizes that, in fact, he hates to be pushed around, his imagination goes all Rambo and what he says he’s going to do to you? It ain’t pretty.
A couple of weeks ago my dear, sweet, politically motivated husband decided to write on the back window of my car “Vote YES on Prop 100.” For those of you who don’t live here, Prop 100 proposes a 1% increase (one cent per dollar) in the Arizona state sales tax. Two-thirds of the revenues generated would fund K-12 education and the other one-third would fund health and human services and public safety. The sales tax would automatically repeal on May 31, 2013. So obviously it is an evil, soul-sucking, horrible proposition that will only lead us down a path of suckass. After the Proposition passed (YAY!) we, being the lazy and unmotivated people that we are, left the back window of my car unwashed. On my 4-year-old’s birthday (after the kegger) we were out running errands and this fucking bitch in a minivan drives up next to our car and gives us the finger. My first thought? Well, I must have cut her off accidentally. Then my , sweet, politically motivated husband reminds me that the back window still displays our vote.
So this evil prop? Could have passed with thousands of votes less than it ended up getting. It was a freaking landslide. But apparently, we are singlehandedly responsible for it passing.
So the fucking asshole bitch (sorry, but I can’t say this out loud in front of the children—allow me to vent) slows down about a quarter mile later and shakes her ugly middle finger at us again. I tried to stay all calm and diplomatic about it and John and I had a nice discussion about how odd I find it that people’s passions seem to rob them of basic social skills, but, let me tell you, Rowan saw her do it and he is pissed. So pissed that last night (two days after the finger attack) while we were getting gelato, he saw a woman with blonde hair and a pony tail (same as the miserable finger attacker) and began a tirade that continues today.
“I am going to gather all of the mosquitoes, bees, and dung beetles I can find and throw them at that lady that pointed her finger at me!”
“They will poop on her!”
“Oh, good idea.”
He wants to break off her fingers and smash her car. Send hawks to attack her and dinosaurs to eat her. He actually called her “stupid,” which, when I asked him what he thought it meant, he said “mean” and “bad.” And today he laid down next to some ants and started whispering to them. When I asked him what he was doing he said, “I am directing the fire ants to put their fire on that lady!” Not a bad idea, actually.
Between this and Luca yelling, “FUCK IT!!!!” at the top of his lungs, I think I need to start really monitoring what I say. But more importantly, I ask of you to please . . . PLEASE . . . pretty please . . . NEVER piss off my 4-year-old.