Yes, Rory, I’m talking about you.
He’s always been a cheeky monkey, independent and adventurous, with an air of (Dennis the) menace about him. However, in the past week he has given me reason to believe he is not the guileless 3 year old he has led me to think he is. I think he is actually a 20-year-old uni student.
Firstly, his daycare teacher told me about an incident last Friday during afternoon tea.
Rory: Miss Domi, I’m awergic to this biscuit.
Miss Domi: ..????? What?! Ohno!! I’m so sorry Rory, let me get you anothe-
Rory: I’m just kidding. (laughs)
See what he did there? He bloody knows how careful the girls are with their kids with allergies and knew exactly how to use that information to his advantage. Devious little button pushing shite.
Then on Saturday evening we were sitting on the couch with friends, chatting nicely with him cuddled into my side. Then he asked, “Mummy, can you hold up your hand?” So I did, and he grabbed it and smacked my face with it.
He used MY OWN HAND to smack me in the face.
Then he laughed like Dr Evil’s Mini-Me. He was soon laughing out the other side of his face though; I got him back by tickling him without mercy for the next 5 minutes. How naïve of me to not suspect my nearly 4 year old of setting me up! Jeez. That’s the kind of thing I should be doing to him, not the other way round. Next thing you know he’ll be asking me to pull his finger.
Today he slipped a bit though;
Rory: Mummy my toe hurts.
Me: Why darling?
Rory: Because I don’t wanna eat my sandwich.
He did well with the big brown Bambi eyes, quiet little something’s-really-wrong-but-I’m-being-brave-Mum voice, picking an ailment that wouldn’t be immediately dismissed as bullshit (eg ‘my arm is bwoken’/’my tummy is full of blood’ etc), then *BAM, ruined it by dobbing himself in.
He’s still only 3 (and three-quarters!) so I should be able to stay ahead of him for the time being… you’d think. Time will tell.