My kid is on to me. I’ve been barking in his ear for 13 years now, and it seems he’s figured out that I don’t really ever bite. I hate this. Coercion used to be much simpler. Now I have to get cooperation.

What rot.

I remember a fit he pitched in a grocery store when he was a toddler. I don’t remember what it was about, but he fussed about something, and I didn’t want to hear it. Typical of me. Anyway, he blathered on until I played my trump card, “Do you want to go to your room?”

NOOooooo. Not that.

The mere mention of banishment sent him into obedient spasms. His tot-sized brain failed to realize his room was too far away to be a genuine threat. I loved that era. When I told him to jump, I got efforts that would make Hercules look like a sluggard.
Not anymore. Now I’m just another sensory input into his vast array of societal connections. X-Box. Discovery Channel. The Internet. Action Pursuit Games. Our dog.

I bob along in his stream, but I’m no longer leading the flotilla. His world has expanded beyond my banks. He forms his own opinions and theories, tests them, and uses the result to guide his next battery of experiments in the world. How dare the little punk?

Then again, maybe that was my best hope all along.