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ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking that stubbornness is a genetic trait handed down from parent to child in much the same way that eye color is. My son has my husband's blue eyes, and his stubbornness to go with them. After my son finished his dinner last night, I called Jeff on the phone to discuss this.
"I think that our son would eat sugar on top of his mashed potatoes and claim that he likes it, just like you like sugar on your mashed potatoes," I said.
"What? I don't like sugar on my mashed potatoes! That was the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten."
"But you ate them that way, and claimed you liked the way they tasted."
I was referring to a story Jeff told me about when he was 8 years old, when he and his mother had dinner with a friend of hers. At the dinner table, Jeff reached for what he thought was the salt and sprinkled it on his mashed potatoes.
"Oh, no, honey! You don't want to put that on your potatoes! That's sugar!" his mother's friend exclaimed, making a big deal of it and embarrassing him.
Jeff, not being one to admit that he has made a mistake, told his mother's friend that he just so happened to like sugar on his mashed potatoes, and proceeded to eat them that way, every last dollop, in order to make a point.
"Well, yeah, I had no choice but to eat them. That woman was sticking her nose where it didn't belong, and I had to show her. I couldn't let her win."
"Uh-huh, well your son is the same way. Tonight at dinner, he was eating his dinner roll and he sat it back down on his plate, right in his ketchup. I told him what he'd done, and wiped the ketchup off of his bread for him. He took the roll away from me, looked me in the eye, dipped it back in the ketchup, and ate it. Then he did it again, and again, like he'd wanted ketchup on his bread all along. I know there's no way that tasted good to him. He did it for the same reason you ate a whole bowl of sugar and mashed potatoes when you were a kid."
Jeff chuckled. "Of course, he had to. You were sticking your nose where it didn't belong."
"Silly me."
"Next time you'll know better."
I guess so. Or maybe not. This mindset confounds me. I am aware that such a mindset exists, but - like the ever-expanding universe or nuclear fission - the mechanicals of it are beyond my grasp. If someone were to stop me from eating sugar on my mashed potatoes, I would thank them and ask them if I could please have some more, unsweetened potatoes for my plate. I would laugh off any embarrassment, because who doesn't make a mistake from time to time? The men in my family, that's who.
The most interesting thing to me is that this is not learned behavior for my son; it is innate to his being. Because of Jeff's work schedule, our son only sees his father two nights a week. He hasn't heard the mashed potato story, and is too young to take a lesson of how to behave from it if he did. This is just the kind of toddler he is, the kind of little boy he is becoming, and the kind of man he is destined to be: proud, headstrong, and stubborn to the point that he will endure something disgusting rather than admit to falling victim to human error.
I will have to learn how to work around this character trait in my son. When possible, I will try to protect him from it. I figure the least I can do is remember to keep the sugar container and the salt container far away from each other on the dinner table. Also, I will simply try not to laugh out loud in the coming years when he claims to like ranch dressing on his pumpkin pie instead of admit that he thought it was whipped cream, when he says that he meant to put a half of a bottle of Tabasco Sauce in his chili instead of a few drops and that he's only crying because it tastes so good to him, and that he knew all along he was loading fresh garlic on his spaghetti and not parmesan cheese. I can't help but think that the next 16 years are going to exasperating, yet interesting and entertaining for me – especially at meal times.
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"I think that our son would eat sugar on top of his mashed potatoes and claim that he likes it, just like you like sugar on your mashed potatoes," I said.
"What? I don't like sugar on my mashed potatoes! That was the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten."
"But you ate them that way, and claimed you liked the way they tasted."
I was referring to a story Jeff told me about when he was 8 years old, when he and his mother had dinner with a friend of hers. At the dinner table, Jeff reached for what he thought was the salt and sprinkled it on his mashed potatoes.
"Oh, no, honey! You don't want to put that on your potatoes! That's sugar!" his mother's friend exclaimed, making a big deal of it and embarrassing him.
Jeff, not being one to admit that he has made a mistake, told his mother's friend that he just so happened to like sugar on his mashed potatoes, and proceeded to eat them that way, every last dollop, in order to make a point.
"Well, yeah, I had no choice but to eat them. That woman was sticking her nose where it didn't belong, and I had to show her. I couldn't let her win."
"Uh-huh, well your son is the same way. Tonight at dinner, he was eating his dinner roll and he sat it back down on his plate, right in his ketchup. I told him what he'd done, and wiped the ketchup off of his bread for him. He took the roll away from me, looked me in the eye, dipped it back in the ketchup, and ate it. Then he did it again, and again, like he'd wanted ketchup on his bread all along. I know there's no way that tasted good to him. He did it for the same reason you ate a whole bowl of sugar and mashed potatoes when you were a kid."
Jeff chuckled. "Of course, he had to. You were sticking your nose where it didn't belong."
"Silly me."
"Next time you'll know better."
I guess so. Or maybe not. This mindset confounds me. I am aware that such a mindset exists, but - like the ever-expanding universe or nuclear fission - the mechanicals of it are beyond my grasp. If someone were to stop me from eating sugar on my mashed potatoes, I would thank them and ask them if I could please have some more, unsweetened potatoes for my plate. I would laugh off any embarrassment, because who doesn't make a mistake from time to time? The men in my family, that's who.
The most interesting thing to me is that this is not learned behavior for my son; it is innate to his being. Because of Jeff's work schedule, our son only sees his father two nights a week. He hasn't heard the mashed potato story, and is too young to take a lesson of how to behave from it if he did. This is just the kind of toddler he is, the kind of little boy he is becoming, and the kind of man he is destined to be: proud, headstrong, and stubborn to the point that he will endure something disgusting rather than admit to falling victim to human error.
I will have to learn how to work around this character trait in my son. When possible, I will try to protect him from it. I figure the least I can do is remember to keep the sugar container and the salt container far away from each other on the dinner table. Also, I will simply try not to laugh out loud in the coming years when he claims to like ranch dressing on his pumpkin pie instead of admit that he thought it was whipped cream, when he says that he meant to put a half of a bottle of Tabasco Sauce in his chili instead of a few drops and that he's only crying because it tastes so good to him, and that he knew all along he was loading fresh garlic on his spaghetti and not parmesan cheese. I can't help but think that the next 16 years are going to exasperating, yet interesting and entertaining for me – especially at meal times.
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Date: 2007-08-27 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2007-08-28 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-28 03:32 pm (UTC)But... Sprinkle a little brown sugar and chilli flakes on cheesy mashed potatoes, and you might be surprised... ;)
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Date: 2007-08-28 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-28 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2007-08-28 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-28 10:17 pm (UTC)