You're not the boss of me

Today I told Baby M, "You're not the boss of me!" Seriously. Which one of us is two again? What's even more embarrassing is that I don't think either one of us believed me when I said it. Baby M is sooo the boss of me. "Pick me up. "Put me down." "Dance with me." "Give me a snack." "No, not rice cakes." I feel like I obey every one of his commands and yet this tiny dictator is still never satisfied. This is one of those days that I'm sure I am just one ineffective parenting tactic away from my Supernanny debut.

Of course, I'm sure to Baby M it seems that I'm the tyrant. "Time to eat." "Let's get dressed." "Step away from the DVD player." However he doesn't acquiesce or respond with petulant slogans. He simply screams "No," runs away and hides behind the curtains. At least I haven't sunk to concealing myself in the draperies yet. Let's hope both of us can learn to respond a bit more maturely to requests in the next few months.