Manipulation

Here is the most expensive noise in the world;

"Daaaaaaaaaad. Pleeeeeeease?"

Oh the money, time and patience I've lost over that. I mean, the Kids are quite good at a lot of things; you should see the picture the Boy drew in my birthday card. It was awesome. He drew a knight with a sword. Admittedly the sword looked rather like a penis, but it was really rather good. However, there is no skill they possess in greater or more frustrating abundance than the ability to manipulate you. And its not just "pleasepleaseplease." Oh no, they're far more cunning than that. It ranges from the relatively subtle

"My dinner tank is full, but my sweetie tank is empty."

To an all out broadside

"Look, Boy - nanna and granddad are h-"

"WHERE'S MY PRESENT?"

And its not like they only do it when they want something. Noooooo. Sometimes they're do it to make you go completely out of your mind

"Dad, what's the name of the song I like?"

"Which one? How does it go?"

"Can't remember."

"What are the words?"

"Dunno."

"Are you on a wind up?"

"Yes."

Some time ago I was watching television with the Boy whilst he was carefully rooting around in his nose for something delicious to eat. He was taking his time, to the point I was expecting him to pull Lord Lucan out his hooter, but eventually he latched onto a winner, retrieved it and was about to put it in his mouth when I interceded with "Don't pick your nose and eat it, Boy." He responded by pointing at the television and looking surprised. I looked at the telly. It was showing the credits to a programme. I looked back at the Boy. He had a expression of triumphant satisfaction. The little sod pulled the oldest trick in the book on me at three and a half. And I fell for it. They can even undermine your confidence in making the most straightforward of statements

"Girl, are you being a bit contrary?"

"No!"

"Are you?"

"NO!"

"Ok, then. You're not."

(Boy) "Yes she is!"

The Girl has a ten step routine she goes through every time we go shopping with her. It goes like this

Phase 1: Walking around quite cheerfully.

Phase 2: Walking slowly, frowning.

Phase 3: Refusing to hold your hand any more.

Phase 4: "My feeeet hurt."

Phase 5: "I want to go hoooooooome..."

Phase 6: Sitting down in the aisle.

Phase 7: Ignoring you ignoring her

Phase 8: Lying spread-eagled across the aisle

Phase 9: Kicking people trying to get past her

Phase 10: Screaming like she's being kidnapped when you try to pick her up.

The trick is to get to the checkout before she hits phase six, otherwise you're buggered.

Even the Wife (who, let me tell you, is not one to mess about with) falls foul of this. Imagine you've made lunch, you place a drink in front of your son. He complains its water. You tell him it's not water. He disagrees. You point out it's squash, it's just a bit weak. He disagrees. You tell him to just bloody try it. He disagrees. Finally, you relent and stalk off to make a new drink, at which point he turns to your sister-in-law and says

"See? I told you it was water."

And yet, ridiculously, there are laws against murder. Its best to accept that you can't win all of them. The Boy refuses point blank to eat any food that is hotter than tepid. This has gone on for four years now to the point that we cook his dinner fifteen minutes before dinner time so it has congealed in the manner of his approval by the time it hits the table. At times in the past I've had fights with the Girl that have only ended because I pretended to cry.

I say "pretended"...

I should leave you with this. A couple of months ago I was sitting on the arm of the sofa trying to cajole the Boy into doing his homework about telling the time. It wasn't going well.

"Can you count the numbers on the clock face?"

"No."

"Go on..."

"My tummy hurts."

"No it doesn't. You're just saying that. Get on with it or you won't be able to play later."

His response was unorthodox, unsubtle, and yet remarkably effective.

*Sigh* "One... two..." *Sigh* "Three... four..." (Long pause) "Five... six... ATTACK!"

And he pushed me off the sofa.