Sneaky AND Independent - a troubling combo

So the Mud Puddle is off to a great start this New Year. He was exposed to the over indulgence of his grandparents for three wonderful days (we all had a great time) and he was barely spoiled when we arrived back home. He still talks to me like I am his personal secretary/maid/whipping boy but at least it wasn’t any worse after being coddled, canoodled and allowed to jump on furniture.

What truly amazes me about him is just when I think I have seen ‘as bad as it can get’, it reaches a new low. I THOUGHT I had this ‘willful independence’ streak all figured out (my mother continually points out I was the same way – man, she is SO loving me being on the parental receiving end). But apparently not. Now is he not only independent, but sneaky about it to boot.

An example: The Mud Puddle has two pair of safety scissors he has access to. I have told him repeatedly if he wants to use the scissors he has to ask, and someone will get them for him. He is not allowed to just go get scissors out of the drawer. He has to ask permission and have Scott or I (or another semi-responsible adult) hand them to him.

Of course when we are ‘busy’ and don’t respond to his barely-spoken-above-a-whisper request in three nano-seconds, he goes for them himself. Now, if it were anything else, say a marker or a cookie – I wouldn’t have such a problem. But an instrument designed to cut through paper the thickness of skin? Urm, NO. So I put them up a shelf ‘out of his reach’ and told him he has to ASK to get them and now he can’t reach them. Man, I am an IDIOT.

I am going about my business – doing laundry or something and I hear him say something under his breath, drag his stool across the kitchen floor and then……silence. That kind of silence that strikes fear in the hearts of mothers everywhere. That silence that is SO quiet, you know they are up to something.

I go to the kitchen and lo and behold he has reached the scissors on the high shelf with help from his stool (that is always under foot b/c he never puts it back) and he is cutting some paper out at the table. Seriously. What the heck am I supposed to do with this predicament? Props to him for being resourceful but shame on him for disobeying direct orders (the mumble I heard was him ‘asking’ for the scissors. Who exactly? The dog that was acting as his look out? I certainly didn’t hear him and I have the hearing of a bat when I want it). So I took the scissor back and made him ask for them again. Then when we was done with them put them on a higher shelf – pretty much ensuring he will break his leg when he tries to sneak those down.

The funniest part about all of this? My scissors are still in the utensil drawer, easily accessed by little hands. But he doesn’t use them. Why? I can only guess it is because they are not ‘his’ and rather boring looking compared to his kid scissors with the orange racing stripe.