I knew when he was only little that my son was going to be a bit on the stubborn side. Kind of like me, actually. Determined, wanting to be right, and irrefutably unwilling to back down in an argument. And I guess that's why the conversation about who was going to dispose of his half-eaten banana went on for a full thirty minutes.
perched on the edge of an armchair, his face tired and pouty, worn out
from being outside all morning in unseasonably warm April weather and a
kids' birthday party in the afternoon, the remains of his banana in his
"Who is going to throw away my banana?"
question was so pensive it could have come from a senior-ranking army
general, deciding whether or not to attack the other side.
and I, being the type of parents to encourage our kids to help out
around the house, and not under any circumstances to be pushed around by
our offspring, immediately produced the same response.
"You are going to throw away your banana."
My son threw back his head in displeasure, letting out a sigh.
a tough life when you're an almost-five-year-old your only real worry
in life is about which Hot Wheels cars to pluck from the toy bin today, or which
nose to stick on Mr. Potato Head.
"I'm not throwing it away."
"Then there are only three options:" Said J. "You can throw it away, eat it, or hold it. All night."
About ten minutes later, J and I were reading when suddenly we heard a great sigh.
Still with the banana.
"WHO is going to throw away my BANANA?"
"Er. Didn't we just answer that question? No one is going to throw away your banana, except you. The end." I said.
son has a particular way of glaring at me that only a child of his age can,
with a perfect combination of cute and cross. Lips pursed, brow
"Take your banana to the bin. You know where it is - under the kitchen sink. That's all you have to do."
I carried on reading, unwilling to carry on the discussion about the flipping banana.
More minutes passed and there was another sigh.
"Good God. Seriously. Are you still holding that banana?" I asked my son.
"I still don't know who is going to...."
"That's it! Go and put it in the bin right now."
But he didn't. He lingered, hovering near me on the sofa, lying, then sitting, then lying again, his banana-hand still outstretched, obstinate and unrelenting.
And I realized, this boy is not only as stubborn as me, he's even more stubborn than me. Oh boy.
Some minutes later, as the banana became increasingly disgusting and now had dog hair stuck to it, he quietly took it to the bin and without a word tossed it in there.