So there we were.
My one-year-old son and I.
Staring at each other.
Waiting for one of us to make the first move.
“If you take one more step, you’ll regret it.”
He picks his foot up.
“Uh-uh! Don’t you do it.”
His foot goes back. All is well with the world when suddenly —
He gives me the shit grin and takes one more step!
Despite being told no. Despite knowing full and well what the consequences will be. Despite me trying to scare the bejeebees out of him, he still does it.
He places one of his feet into the street.
We are not talking about him running out into the road. We are talking about him putting his foot in the gutter of the street, which he knows is forbidden! And that smirk. That shitty, shitty “I’m an asshole” smirk.
My smirk! (of course, my father says that it serves me right for all of the hell that I put him and my mother through)
Why?! Because he wants to question my authority? Because he wants to test the limits? Sure, he is cute — but shit; This kid thinks he can get away with murder!
Is this the Oedipus complex? I think it is. I think that he wants to challenge me and my authority over this house. I think that my one year old has turned into my rival. He knows that I am stronger, but any punishment that I give him will inact pitty from his mother. When she picks him up, he looks at me with this, “Well played, huh.” Look.
Who is going to metephorically lose his penis here?
Well, we both have the same attitude.
“It is sure as hell not going to be me.”
What we have here is quite the conundrum.