At 5:30 this morning, I awoke to,
I bolted up in bed.
“What?!?!?” I responded to some small child I couldn’t yet see.
“I wan a piece a gum.”
Henry. Henry loves gum. He’s obsessed with it. He’s not yet three and can hold a piece of gum under his tongue while drinking a full glass of milk. Our biggest tantrums have crystallized over gum. He loves green gum (spearmint), purple gum (bubble gum), blue gum (peppermint) and yellow gum (Zebra striped). I’ve learned that I yield the most authority when I bargain with a piece of gum.
“Henry. If you go to sleep peacefully tonight, you may have a piece of gum in the morning!”
“You’ve listened so well, sweet boy, here’s a piece of gum.”
“If you don’t stop RIGHT NOW I’m taking away your gum.”
“If you continue that behavior you will have no gum for the REST OF THE DAY.”
Do I wish I could guide and control my son with a firm tone and a very hairy eyeball?
So I barter cautiously, with meticulous attention to detail as Henry’s gum standards are both stringent and volatile.
Move over gold. I’m buying stock in Wrigley.