Politics, Protest And Power

Saying Adam has a tendency to fly off the handle is a understatement. He can go from helpfully setting the table to a puddle of fury and loathing at the flip of a switch. (I wonder where he gets that from) I just wish I knew where that switch was located. I would find it and layer it in inches of packing tape so that at no time could it be accidentally switched on ever again. And then perhaps our family may be able to consume one dinner in peace - even if (gasp!) pork or pea pods or potatoes or pineapple - or whatever new food he decided he now absolutely detests was being served.

Food, once again, was the catalyst for such dire emotions as we left their daycare last night. Damonn was going to a Blazer's game with a friend so we were on our own for dinner. I announced that we were going to McDonald's and waited for the cheers and confetti. Instead I received a proclamation from Adam that we were going to "Volunteer and have a battle between McDonald's and Shari's". After several clarifying questions into what in the hell he was talking about, I came to the conclusion that he wanted to vote (not volunteer) on where we ate dinner. I hate Shari's. I hate everything about Shari's. From the way that everything is served luke warm, to the apparent pool of grease that everything is cooked in, to the ridiculous price they ask you to pay for such fare. But being the proponent of democracy that I am, and knowing full well that Jamie will always pick McDonald's, I agreed to his suggestion.

So how did Adam take to his democratic loss? Let's just say there was less anger and mayhem after the Rodney King verdict than there was in the back seat of our car last night. And the range of tactics he used to first persuade our votes and then push for a re-vote was quite impressive. But when he ended his tirade in saying that voting Shari's actually meant McDonald's and vice-versa so really Shari's had won, I just had to laugh. Politics is definitely in his future. Or maybe a future in defending such politicians.

But the night didn't end there, folks. Oh no. Because I don't take kindly to a five-year old holding a personal political protest in my back seat, I made the executive decision to have PB&J at home. By the time we pulled into the driveway his "kid power" fist in the air shenanigans had turned to the calmer approach of civil disobedience. He now refused to get out of the car. Again, his tactics were impressive, his stamina. . . . not so much. Within about 90 seconds of Jamie and I leaving him for the warmth of our kitchen he was following behind, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

The Man will always win, Adam. You have to be The Man to beat The Man. Only then will you be able to rule with all the evil that you possess.