The conniving button-pusher and the single mom

Yes, the conniving button-pusher mentioned in this blog title is none other than my precocious little 5-year-old.

Children have, surely for the entire length and breadth of human history, strived to wrap their parents around their little fingers.  And generation upon generation of them have succeeded, at least to some degree.  Kids know their power, and they wield it well.

Who else in your life (excepting, perhaps, a spouse or partner) knows so intimately what makes you happy, what makes you frustrated, what makes you sad?  Has lived with and observed you day in and day out for years and knows exactly what makes you tick?  Who else but a child can read the exact moment you're going to blow your lid and sidestep it adeptly with a quick apology or a race to pick up those toys after all?

And, let's face it, it's in a kid's best interest to master these things.  A little parental wheedling and manipulating goes a long way for a child who just doesn't want to be fussed at, made to do chores or sent to bed without dessert.

My son has learned this lesson well and has been demonstrating his new skills of late.

He's always been something of a sensitive soul.  If I raise my voice at him, he dissolves into tears and asks if I still love him, at which point, of course, my heart immediately melts.  I drop to my knees, wrap my arms around him. "Even when I'm angry or frustrated, I will always love you with all my heart," I say, tears likely streaming down my cheeks.

Well, Capt. Manipulator has learned from me quite well. He knows my tenderness; he knows I value love and affection even through anger; he knows I'll reverse emotional tracks instantly with the right prodding.  So now when I get frustrated with something, he has taken to saying something along the lines of, "I'm always trying to be nice, Mommy. Even when you're angry, I'm trying to be nice."

Or if I fuss at him for some infraction, I'll get something like, "I'm sorry for everything I ever did wrong in my life," uttered with tears welling and lower lip trembling, quite possibly the most pitiful sight in the world.

Wow, here's the dagger from my heart, sweetie.  I believe this belongs to you.

I can't decide if it's a more appropriate parental reaction to ignore these (obviously manipulative) statements -- he clearly wants me to just stop whatever negative emotions I'm projecting to him at the time -- or to see them as my son's ingenious, though perhaps unintentional, relief valve for me. 

Those things he says certainly have the effect of making me calm down, take a deep breath and look at myself with a more critical eye.  Am I overreacting to something?  Is my response appropriate or overkill?  And sometimes the answers to those questions are eye-opening, even with only a moment's reflection.

But here's the really scary question to ponder: if he's this good at handling me when he's 5, what am I in for when he has gained the psychological maturity and manipulating skills of a teenager?  I'll just go ahead and start sharpening those daggers for him now.