My seven-year old had a bit of a throwdown with my wife the other day. I won’t go into specifics, but it ended with him staring her down and declaring “You’re not the boss of me.”
Well, actually, that’s not quite how it ended, but it’s how he would have liked it to end. The actual ending involved him being sent to his room.
Here’s where it gets funny. The next day, the little guy returned to the issue with his momma.
“When I said you weren’t the boss, what I meant was that no one is the boss of me.”
Momma, in a move so classic it needn’t be described, didn’t say anything.
“Only I am the boss of me,” my son explained. “I’m in charge of how I feel and what I think.”
From Momma? Still nothing.
“That’s what I was trying to say.” He crossed his arms and nodded. Because, of course, he had made his point so definitively.
This was the point at which Momma started to speak. I think you can imagine the rest.
I love the idea that he came back to her to try to spin his losing argument into a Greater Truth. I can’t wait until he tries it with me!