Today as we were on our way home from a very nice playdate at Dori’s house Sam got angry and told me “I don’t like Mummy. I don’t like Daddy. I don’t like Baby Bea!” This little outburst came out of nowhere and I don’t think he’s ever told me that he doesn’t like me before. Baby Bea and Daddy, sure. Not me though.
“But I like you Sam” I replied. “What’s wrong, why don’t you like Mummy and Daddy and Baby Bea?”
“I don’t like Baby Bea. She is annoying me, she is making me very frustrated!” came Sam’s response. Okay, fair enough, Bea was sat back in her car seat amusing herself by blowing raspberries at her brother. Sam doesn’t find this funny at all. On the contrary, it makes him rather irate and gives him the scrunch face. We try to explain that she is just trying to communicate with him as she doesn’t know any words yet, then attempt to get Sam to help her find some other sounds, but the path we usually end up going down tends to end with Sam trying to punch his little sister and having a tantrum. Oh how I especially love driving along to that ensuing cacophony.
“And what have Mummy and Daddy done to upset you Sam? Why don’t you like us?”
“I don’t like Mummy and I don’t like Daddy. I don’t like you driving. I want to drive. You can’t drive. Soon I’ll be big enough to drive the car and I will drive.”
We then had a little to and fro funny argument about how much growing he has to do before he would be able to commandeer the driver’s seat, with me saying “lots of growing to do Sam” and Sam retorting “no, just a little bit.” He started to loosen up and giggle again, even forgetting about Baby Bea and her raspberries for a moment. I won the battle with a final “a lot!” and he fell silent for a pause.
Then a snapshot of the future came out of his mouth with a teenage scowl:
“I’m going to grow just a bit more and then I’ll be seventeen and I will drive the car, and I will hang out in the car with my friends all day and we will have fun and eat and drink in it.”