I really miss my best friend. And by that, I mean the little guy I’ve been hanging out with for much of the past two years. Somewhere, and I missed the memo that outlined exactly when this was going to happen, I have ceased to be Evan’s best buddy and have become the Oppressor. I am the chief sayer of NO, the prime minister of Don’t Do That, the executive vice president of Get Down From There, and the man in charge of Put That Back Right Now. I always suffix these things with a “please,” and reward them with a “thank you!” and a “good boy!”, but that doesn’t change anything. I am now the primary setter of limits. I have become Authority incarnate. I’m no longer lovable Dad: I’m a barrier to be rebelled against.
What breaks my heart is that Evan’s attitude toward me has clearly changed. On nights when it’s going to be a while before his mom is home, he makes it pretty clear he’d rather be dealing with her. I try to do fun things with him still, such as tickle attacks, story time and just all-around playtime, but somewhere along the way, Evan’s decided that daddy is not the person of choice for these activities. When I’m trying to demonstrate how he needs to be doing something instead of how he’s already decided to do it, he just sticks to his guns and defiantly stares at me and issues a loud “NOOOOOOoooooo!” worthy of any male member of the Skywalker family.
I feel like a course correction is needed somewhere in here to get things back to center, but I’m just not sure what exactly I need to do – other than keep doing what I’m doing for the sake of keeping him out of trouble, teaching him what the limits are, and hoping that he’ll “get” it, that some of this will click with repetition. Nights like last night, when I was flying solo with the little guy, don’t exactly instill me with enormous confidence in my parenting abilities.
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