I have been attempting to get Baby Boy to write, nay scribble, upon some Thank You cards for his plethora of Christmas gifts. It was easier to potty train him.
He loves to draw, so it is my fault for putting the Big Scary THANK YOU CARD label on it. He won't even go near the stamps and crayons I set up for him. Rather, he very cautiously walks in a 10-foot loop around the table eyeing the supplies as if they are snakes ready to go for his neck.
This afternoon found me holding colored pencils in my left hand in an attempt to mimic the pressure and intensity of a 3 1/2-year old's scribbles.
He got close enough to watch my lame attempt.
"I want you to remember this," I said. "As the only time I will ever pretend I am you in order to get something crossed off my to-do list. I will not fill out your college applications or take any driver's test for you."
He crawled up on my lap to inspect my forgeries.
Then he sighed in disappointment.
"Is that the best you can do?" he squinted.
And there it is, Tiger Mom coming back to bite me in the ass.