Driving home from a friend's house Saturday evening, I called Matt to ask him if dinner would be ready upon our arrival (and by "ask" I mean, "demand" that dinner be ready, I was seriously hangry.) When I hung up the phone, from the very back of the van, Brock shouts, "Mommy! Who was that!?" Ugh. I know he is intelligent. Extremely intelligent. I am quite sure he knows good and well who I was speaking to on the phone. I begrudgingly answer, "Your Father". "Oh, what did he say?" This question kills me, every time. He didn't just 'say something'. He said a lot of things. We had an entire conversation! Brock heard half of this conversation. It wasn't complicated. I'm pretty sure he could infer the other half. Right? I mean, can a five year old do that? He manages to infer and hear a lot of other things. For example, somehow, he always knows when I've just gotten off of the phone with my sister Annora, and we have planned something for the boys to do together.
"He's at the store."
"Oh, well, I hope he got milk."
"I'm sure he did."
"Good, because I was crying all morning about it. I kind of threw a fit."
Interesting. Brock just stated all of this in the most matter-of-fact tone, imaginable. I mean, never has he ever been less whiny, loud or insistent. He simply stated these as facts. Nothing more to be said. But, in my head, I can only imagine what actually went down this morning, while I was away at work that morning rounding on patients. I'm guessing, Brock had a total meltdown. I'm sure he cried and cried and went on about how all he wanted was milk. At some point, I'm guessing that he mentioned how miserable his life is, and that we NEVER give him ANYTHING he wants. I kind of grin to myself, because, Brock is so totally over the events of this morning. Harbors no hard feelings. And appears almost proud of himself. As if, the only reason Matt went to the store to get groceries was for the milk, he so desperately needed at 7:30am.
We all go into the house and settle in to watch a movie while we wait for Matt to get home with the groceries. The front door opens. Matt walks in, and says, "Hey, Brock. I got milk." Funny you should say that...
...I go on to tell Matt of Brock and I's conversation in the car. Matt is flabbergasted. "So, he was aware of what he was doing!?" Matt, like I, had always assumed these were fits completely out of toddler/child-like uncontrollable thoughts and emotions. That they behaved this way because they have no idea how to channel their emotions. That they wouldn't or even couldn't identify the moment as a tantrum, but more just as that time there was no milk, and I was really sad. Turns out, we were wrong. Way, way wrong. I think we are being manipulated. And, in Brock's mind, it worked. Because we went out and bought the milk. Never mind that Matt planned to go to the store that evening anyway. Never mind all of that.
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