like mother, like son

My son will be 4 next month, and one of us isn't going to make it. W seems to have inherited all the aggravating aspects of my personality. He's stubborn, moody, dramatic, and slightly selfish. In a 4 year old, those qualities can sometimes be tolerable, but not so much when faced with them day in and day out. His new saying is 'I can't". I'll say "W, please eat your sandwich" and his immediate response is "I can't". When I ask him why he can't he looks at me like I'm slow-witted and says "because... I can't". Yesterday, before we went to get pictures taken, I made him a deal. Two cookies in exchange for no whining, crying, or screaming, and cooperation while taking pictures. I even pinkie promised. He reneged. There was zero cooperation and endless whining resulting in loss of the cookies. I asked him to take 1 picture with his sister, and all I got was "I can't". I gave him my death glare and said "Well, I can't give you a cookie." I don't think he understood my sarcasm.

Motherhood is never boring. We recently took a family trip to Washington D.C. W is notorious for sleeping poorly in hotel rooms. This trip was no exception. He cried through most of our first night there. At about 3 o'clock, I finally decided that I would give him some Tylenol, so I go into the hotel bathroom and locate the medicine. Of course I couldn't get the child proof cap off. I'm holding down and turning, pushing and turning - nothing. Finally, I get the freaking thing open and immediately drop the bottle. It goes everywhere, on my pajama pants (the only ones I brought with me; they smelled like cherry cotton candy for the rest of the trip), on the floor. I lost almost the entire bottle, except for one dose. So there am I, standing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, covered in cherry Tylenol with one crying child and just enough medicine. Thank goodness for small mercies.

To be fair to my first born, he's been sick. His usual laid back personality has been overrun by a nasty cough and a runny nose. I've been reminding him that whining is not attractive. My words came back to bite me when I was on the phone with my mother whining about how I didn't feel good. The apple does not fall far from the tree. 

         
                   

                          W - 3 1/2 years old 

W - 1 month old