My Little Lawyer

So my husband is a lawyer.  And when I say that, I don't just mean that he goes to work and earns his living by being a lawyer - I mean that his personality and the way that he thinks is perfectly suited to being a lawyer.  Even when we first met, long before deciding what he was going to be when he grew up was something he thought about, he was a lawyer.  My MIL has story after story about him using logic, reasoning and his skill at arguing to convince people to do what he wanted as as small child.

Turns out, we're raising our own little future attorney.

My Big Guy is already using logic and reasoning to try to get us to let him do things he wants to do.

He's three.

I'm scared for my future, mostly the teenage years.

It's hard to argue with his points sometimes, and it's upsetting that at the tender age of three we've had to already abandon "because I said so" or "because I'm in charge" as a reason why he has to do something.  He needs a REAL reason to do it, or there's a fit involved.

"Can I please go play outside?"

"No, it's cold and raining."

"Don't worry, I have a jacket and boots.  I"ll be fine!"

Well.  Shit.  At least he's polite about it.

It's a funny thing because it's both a source of pride and frustration for me.

I love that he's clever enough to try to argue with me, and proud that he's confident in his reasoning (he does usually make a good point).  At the same time, as the adult, I do know best in most situations and playing outside in the dark, in the rain, when it's 37 degrees out really isn't a good plan.  Plus, let's be honest - Mommy don't wanna go out there in that to watch you buddy.

"No, I don't want to go outside, it's too cold and wet."

"Put on your jacket and boots."

"No, I don't want to go outside."

"I can go by myself!"

Ah yes.  You can play outside on the driveway in the dark by yourself.

Honestly, he could.  He's a very mature 3  years old.  He never once has tried to run away, or play in the street or do anything more dangerous than climb on the top of his Cozy Coupe.

And you know, shoot at me, the cop, with a tire pressure gauge.  Deadly weapon that tire pressure gauge.

"No, you can't go by yourself.  If you go outside your brother will want to go out there and he can't go out right now - he's a sicky!"  (it was true, My Little Guy celebrated Thanksgiving with a ear infection in both ears and general misery all around)

"Ohhhh...  Can I please go when he goes to bed?"

I mean really.  Aren't I supposed to not have to deal with this until he's like 10?

Again, at least he's polite.

Finally I just say no, and tell him too bad, that's the way it is.  Of course the giant fit ensues, but the upside to having a child like this is that I can usually coax him out of the fit using logic.

"Hey, if you're being a giant fuss you can't be a rocket pilot.  Rocket pilots aren't giant fusses..."

Guess we better start saving for Law School, huh?