"I said it's dinner time." I tell him for the millionth time.
No movement from the four-year-old on the couch.
"Come to the table now!"
"OK, I'm going to count to three - one, two..."
He comes running to his chair. Thank goodness the one-two-three thing still works. The punishment if I get to three is sitting on the stairs for four minutes. Not that painful but he still hates it and will generally comply with my demands if he things I'm serious about the "stairs."
So he's finally at the table for dinner. But he's not happy about it.
"I'm not hungry!" He declares.
"That's fine, you don't have to eat but you will have to stay at the table while mommy, daddy and B (baby brother) are finished eating!" I say authoritatively.
He starts to eat.
I'm smiling inside. I'm so proud of myself for sticking to my guns and making sure he follows the dinner rules. Then suddenly he says to himself.
"Grown ups are so boring!"
Now I'm laughing OUT LOUD.
If he thinks we're boring at four years old, what is he going to think of us when he's a teenager?