The Old Switcheroo

In an attempt to get past these night terrors and to get Grayson a happy kind of sleepy, last night his Daddy read him two stories before bed, no sugar and no TV. No dice; still very awake and restless. Then I was enlisted to read him two stories. Still not one yawn or sleepy gesture. Then I made up three stories that all involved some sort of magic carpet, roller coaster loop and castle. I definitely need new material. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice or care. However, even after all our parental story glory he was still having a hard time winding down. Finally, he requested we play the "I'm you and you're me" game. It's pretty simple without too many bells and whistles so I obliged on the one condition that it only last two minutes. This many. One. Two. He agreed.

"Grayson," he says with his finger wagging in my face (note to self: stop wagging finger in his face), "you have to eat all your weg a tubbles before you can have a treat."

"Noooooooooo, I don't want toooooo." I groan, laying it on thick.

"Yes, Grayson," he stresses with a hand on his hip. Clearly someone is enjoying his new place on the family totum pole. "You have to eat something hellshlee (healthy) first."

"All right, Mommy." I acquiesce quickly.

"No, I'm Mommy. You're Grayson." he says with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"Okay, Mommy," I agree.

"No. Wait. Ummm. Yeah. You have to be Grayson so now you call me Mommy." I can see how this is becoming confusing for a three year old who just today learned how to pull up his own underwear. I step up my game:

"Okay, you are Mommy. Can I have gummies? I reeeeealllllllly want gummies. GUMMIES!!!" I'd like the thank the Academy.

"Grayson," he says with exaggerated worry, "I don't want you to get sick in your belly."

Wow he's good at this.

Then comes the dramatic pause. I'm speechless with anticipation of his next move.

"Grayson?" It is a big question with something serious behind it.

"Yes, Mommy?" I respond with equal sobriety. I'm super curious now.

"I will not send you to school. You will stay here with me and with Abby. Forever."

Ah, this kid is masterful. He is playing me like a fiddle. Two can play at this game.

"Oh no? What if I want to go to school and meet new friends?" I argue.

"You don't." He finishes. "And you don't have to eat your weg a tubbles any moren. You can eat gummies for dinner every night. And you don't even has to brush your teef again never."

Applause.
Curtains.

He'd like to thank the Academy.