The kids and I went with Matt to his last service of the day this past Sunday, mainly because I wanted some of his time after being away so long. Matt and I were talking on the way home when Katie started to loudly proclaim, "I have you a question, Daddy. I have you a question."
"Don't interrupt, Katie, Mommy and I are talking."
"But Daddy, talking is how you show someone you love them. I don't know if you love me."
Matt turns to me and says, "I blame this on you. You've been teaching her to manipulate me."
I have a vague recollection of talking with Kate about this, but I swear it was not with the intention of giving her tools for manipulation. This sure illustrates how quick we are at the youngest of ages to use principals of righteousness (i.e. a chief way we show another we love them is to communicate with them) to insist others must serve us. Now that I think about it, Katie may have learned this from me in practice. Her application does seem familiar somehow.
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5 comments:
I love Miss Katie, always cracking me up. Glad you are back and posting again.
I don't think Katie learned it from anyone--I think it is ingrained in little girls. Somehow they know that they must practice manipulating their daddies so they will have had plenty of practice when they get married and have to manipulate their husbands.
Another thing Katie likes to tell her daddy to melt his heart is, "Daddy you are so handsome." I'm not sure she's hip to exactly how much power she has, but it's only a matter of time, I'm sure.
Heather,
I had a hard time posting for so long because I was very ill with allergies and colds for about a month, and then I went to WY for 2 weeks. I'd never loved Wyoming so much as when I was there and could breath again. It was all I could do to keep the house kind of maintained last month, much less anything extra like blogging.
I have no girls, but I can imagine that a little girl of my blood would quite successfully manipulate me. Of course, my little boys, especially the third, are already skilled in that regard. Everytime said third born avoids a spanking with "I sorry, daddy, I sorry" as his eyes well up with tears, I can't help but wonder if I am being played like a fiddle.
Andrew
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