Defiance

How does a ten-year-old exercise his autonomy?

What does he do to assert himself? Refuse to eat his dinner? Is he mouthy? What is typical defiance at this age?

In my house, it has taken the form of bus refusal this week.

Our older son has decided that he can lie down on his belly across his seat on the bus.

"C'mon, big guy," the female attendant said to him when he did this. "You have to sit up."

Our son didn't budge. He rarely moves for a sweet voice. Sweet voices are usually attached to sweet people, and, in his opinion, sweet people pose no real threat. Suddenly, all eyes were on me.

I'll admit it. I silently was cursing as I made my way back onto the bus.

"SIT UP!" I said sternly. It worked, and I felt like I could rule the world. For good measure, I sprinkled a little extra dust of my authority on him by saying, "You sit on your bum until you get to school and stop this nonsense!"

Take that.

As I turned around to exit the bus in all of my greatness, my child immediately flipped onto his belly and spread out across his seat. That little stinker. I whipped around to face him and called out his full name, which every parent does when he/she really means business, and I started counting.

"FIVE, FOUR, THREE..." By the number three, he had returned to an upright position and was sitting nicely in his seat. I have no idea why this works. Perhaps it is because my children have seen me grow fangs and breathe fire? I'm not sure.

Gee, it would be awfully embarrassing if they ever called my bluff!

Feeling invincible yet again, I turned to leave the bus only to discover that this child, in his way, was thumbing his nose to the authority in his life. Once again, he had flipped over onto his belly.

"SIT UP!" I (almost) yelled.

He sat.

"No tummy!" I ordered.

"Tummy!" He said.

"NO tummy," I corrected.

"Tummy," he corrected as well.

"If you lie on your tummy, no pool," I threatened, remembering that he had wanted to visit a local pool after school that day. Yeah, fat chance this one will work. This child does not understand a verbal threat of his present actions leading to a distant consequence. I was losing, and everyone around me knew it.

"Pool," he said.

"Well, you won't get it, buddy, unless YOU SIT YOUR BUM ON THE SEAT AND RIDE THAT WAY TO SCHOOL!" I instructed. With that, I held my breath, turned around and walked. I walked deliberately, feeling the weight of each foot as it connected with the floor, wondering what was going to happen.

I exited the bus and watched it back out of our driveway. And, then I exhaled. Whew. It worked. I had won. Yet another example of some excellent parenting. Strong. Firm and convincing. I showed him that I am large and in charge. Yessir.

These thoughts were swirling in my head as I stepped inside our home and made my way to the coffee machine. I still had one son at home with school phobia/severe anxiety, but, to be sure, special needs were not going to beat me today!

The telephone call was completely unexpected. How long had they been gone--two minutes? Transportation headquarters called to let me know that the school bus was reaturning with our older son. Apparantly, as soon as the bus had pulled away from our house, he tried to lie down on his stomach. He was seat hopping, climbing over the tops from seat to seat, in order to find a seat where he could get away with this. His little bus was chaos on wheels.

Back outside I went to collect my defiant one. We stood face-to-face when the doors of the bus parted.

"No tummy," I said.

"Inside," he said to me. And he stepped off the bus and walked into our house.

I could tell that it was going to be an interesting week.