Little lawyers

Lawyers!

My children seem perfectly suited to be lawyers when they "grow up." I say this because lately our house seems more like a courtroom than a home, Everything I say makes them want to shout, "I object!" It leaves me feeling like a novice tangling with veteran attorneys.

My daughter, Rachel, is the cleverest of my little lawyers. Only three years old, she has changed the way I interact with my kids. What should be a simple request to use the potty must now be asked like this: "Rachel, can you use the potty, wipe, flush the toilet, wash your hands (with warm water), turn off the water, dry your hands, hang the towel on the rack, and close the bathroom door behind you?'

When Rachel first started using the potty alone, it was common for her to emerge from the bathroom without having washed her hands. When ordered back into the bathroom, she went, but always said, "You said to use the potty. You didn't tell me I had to wash my hands. If you want me.to wash my hands, then you have to say so."

This battlé of semantics isn't limited to using the potty. With Rachel, it extends to everything. The van must be called a van in order for her to get in it. I sometimes call it a car. Her Dora the Explorer raincoat must be called a coat, not a jacket, as I often call it.

Whereas Rachel uses her facility with language to stall or keep from doing things, my son, Max, uses his skill to avoid being disciplined.

Max likes to splash in puddles. There's nothing wrong with that, but it’s not something he should do 30 seconds before getting into the car, I mean, van. Then again, knowing Max, he probably wants to track mud into the van because he thinks it would be cool.

"Do not (and I repeat) DO NOT SPLASH in the puddles on the way to the van," I said to Max before we left the house one day. Max, sensing a loophole, jumped in every puddle he could find.

"I wasn't splashing, Dad. jumped in the puddles. You didn't say I couldn't jump in the puddles, did you?"

"I didn't, but I meant stay out of the puddles."

"You said don't splash in the puddles," Max said.

"I know what I said. I meant stay put of the puddles."

"How was L supposed to know that?" Max asked.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, exhaled and said, "I 'hope you have children who act just like you."

During the first part of this month or what I refer to as the "monsoon season," I couldn't take my kids to the park. Being in the. house with them day after day nearly drove me crazy.

"No running around the house making noise!" I said one day, having reached my limit.

I thought I made myself clear, but moments later, Max was running around the house making noise. When asked why he was running around the house making noise (clearly in violation of rule #456-9876 of the Ware Household Code of Conduct), Max said, "I wasn't running, I. was walking fast. I was humming a song, not making noise."

It's these subtle differences I keep missing with my children. Lucky for me, there are only two of them making my life difficult.

Andrew, my 25-month-old, is going to be different. He's going to be a little firefighter or little police officer. He's going to do as he is told. He's never going to talk back.

OK, I know I'm only kidding myself. I know I'm only •months away from having a trio of little lawyers running around. If not running around ... walking fast.