So this morning when I woke Luke up, he had some news for me.
"Mom. I can't get up. I'm sick. I go back to bed."
Looking at him suspiciously, I asked him what hurt, what was sick.
"My boo boo. My boo boo on my elbow."
Ah yes. The good ole my-elbow-is-sick-so-I-need-to-sleep-in trick.
Wait, how does my three year old know that claiming to be sick is the oldest trick in the book to stay home?!
Anyway, after being reminded that today is the day that he gets to go over to Dakota's house to play, he was suddenly not so sick any more. Except he still didn't want to go potty. I finally gave him the choice of getting in trouble or going potty. He has ALWAYS chosen the "right" answer when giving that particular pair or choices.
He chose to get in trouble. I didn't even know what "trouble" would be. Time out? A toy taken away? I didn't have time for those. So a light swat on his bottom and being forced down the hall was his "trouble" today. I know better to give choices I can't follow through on, and today he finally called my bluff.
Eventually the kids and I made it out the door and over to Shae's. To get there to their house I go straight through an intersection that I normally turn left at to get to Cindy's house. Not thinking, I turned. Immediately Luke shouted "Wait Mom! Go back! Aren't we going to Dakota's house?!"
If there is one glaring trait that he got from his father instead of me, it's that uncanny sense of direction. Ridiculous I tell you. He wanted me to turn around and go the "right" way. I told him there was more than one way to get to Dakota's house.
When we got there, Luke immediately ran off with his friend and called over his shoulder "Go to work now Mom."
I love you too.