My Son is not a Sociopath… Right?

Someone please tell me your kid went through a similar phase.

The first time Sir had a tantrum I felt like I was watching the exorcist. I was simultaneously frightened and highly amused. The amusement in these situations has certainly faded and the fear has too…. Well mostly.

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Recently Sir has started using the word “kill”. I am choosing to believe the reason for this is because of all of the “ant adventures” we go on (go ahead and pin this genius parenting idea) we find various ant hills around our house and follow one lucky ant around for a bit until Sir decides it is time to squish it. During the time that I have been watching this ant, I have grown sentimentally attached to its little life and as crunchy as it sounds,  I don’t like killing anything just for sport. So I shout at him, “don’t kill the ants!”

Neighbors peek out of their windows at my vocal defense of these Arthropods.

Like I said, I am choosing to believe that Sir thinks that kill means crush.  

So at a recent family function with many aunts, uncles, and cousins, Sir jumps in a circle around Lady as she is sitting sweetly chewing on Tupperware. He then announces “I’m going to KILL sister!” He adds to this proclamation,  a gluteal “roar” showing his teeth and squatting.

And just in case not every single person in the house didn’t hear him, he repeats himself a good four times with a variety of inflections and volumes.  

People actually stopped what they were doing, raised their eyebrows and looked at me. Please tell me, what the hell is an appropriate response to this?

Let’s try a few possible responses shall we?

“No, Sir we only use the word kill when we are talking about NOT killing something?”

“That’s not nice!”

“Tell everyone that you are kidding… Now….please.”

I mumbled some combination of each of these, knowing that everyone kept this little memory nugget packed away for when they ponder later what kind of job I am doing as a mother.

Then yesterday we were walking into the public restroom at the pool, where you know voices echo like a juicy rumor.

As we enter the bathroom stall Sir pleads “mommy, please don’t KILL me!”

Again.

What is the proper response?

Laughing at how ridiculous it sounds?

“I would never kill you!”

“I didn’t say I would kill you…. Silly.”

I chose number 4; silence hoping no one heard. So Sir filled the silence with another “Mom, I said, DON’T kill me.”

This somehow implied that whatever we were doing in the bathroom stall was being interpreted by my toddler as death.

Lord help me.

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