Being Something

Aidan just turned 5 which apparently plunged him into the cold abyss of an age related crisis. I made the obvious assumption that I was somehow responsible for pushing the poor kid over the edge what with my amazing parenting techniques and all. For once, and just this once, I was wrong.

Several weeks ago I had carefully explained to him that as he was turning 5, it would be necessary for him to get a job and his years of sponging off the folks were coming to an end. I helpfully provided some options which mostly involved going to work at the CVS for a 40 hour work week. Given my age and the amazing effect of gravity on my body, I figured the employee discount on cellulite cream would more than pay for his room and board. The other option I gave him was that he could dust once a week and carry his plate to the counter after he ate. After a considerable amount of well-reasoned consideration, he thought CVS was the far better choice as I would not be the boss. So, I further explained he would have to walk to work and back two miles uphill each way. In the rain. And I had just found out that CVS wasn't hiring. After more reasoning, he reconsidered. He added the task of Swifferring and we had a deal. I'll be working with him in the future on his negotiating skills but for now, I figured I might as well let him add more tasks before giving in as they directly benefit me. I did agree to a weekly allowance to be contingent upon the successful implementation of a well formulated cleaning plan and that was that.

So, I give him a birthday card with a dollar which represented the benevolent advance of one month's allowance. Figured it is a wise strategy to set the kids up for indentured servitude in as many ways as possible. He touched that filthy lucre and tossed it back like it was on fire. Said he wasn't interested in buying himself a Matchbox car. I thought about calling one of those drug testing firms but Mia distracted me by being cute. Apparently, the two of them have struck a back room deal. I had noticed that he has been pushing her around on her little pink car for hours on end and otherwise catering to her.

So, a couple of days go by and we are trying to plan his birthday party. Unlike the coronations we held for him in Peru, we're talking about a cake and a pinata. Fortunately, he doesn't recall the wedding cake with fountain, clown, DJ, Sponge Bob, pinata and 50 guests we provided for his first festivities in Lima which cost roughly the same as a cake and pinata here. That is as long as the cake is homemade with generic cake mix, no sprinkles. Knowing he would someday ask about his past, I've wisely hid all photographic evidence of the Peruvian festivities so I knew he wasn't experiencing the let down of no longer having totally ostentatious parents.

So I'm asking about the design and coloring for his cake and he again explains that he doesn't want to be 5, still wants to be 4. I tell him that since I rescheduled his birthday from the 3rd to the 13th already this year to better take advantage of after-Christmas sales, I wasn't sure how much more flexibility I had to alter time.

I told him that no matter how big he got, he would always be my baby boy and Mia would be my baby girl. Didn't help. Told him I would take under consideration that possibility of my removing the heavy burden of carrying his dirty plate to the sink that this birthday imposed. No deal. Reminded him he liked cake and presents. No sale. As I inquire if he is hanging out with kids who smoke substances, he came clean. He told me he emphatically "didn't want to go to college" and he "didn't want to be something." Several times. Oddly, I had not even discussed this with him which would have naturally led to this reaction. But, some adult apparently had. Maybe those scary preschool teachers. I told him we could wait on that decision for both him and Mia but that didn't do the trick. After some negotiations, I finally worked out an agreement that he could go to "an institute of higher learning" and didn't have to be a lawyer. Seemed to do it. Party on.