Spoiled

When we started this blog, it had two goals:

1. Provide updates & pictures, documenting Finn's progress, for family far away.
2. Provide Finn's future girlfriends, ex-wives, domestic partners, business partners, and local grocers with enough ammo to keep him perpetually embarrassed and pleasantly humble.

I think we've succeeded quite well on both counts, but we're nowhere near done.  In general, Finn's an extremely adorable, smart and hilariously funny kid.  But that's boring to write about.  So let's talk about what he's like the rest of the time: spoiled, refusing to help out around the house, no matter how easy or trivial the request is - seemingly on some sort of I'm-a-jerk principle.  

Rather than spend five minutes helping to clean his toys up, he'll spend half an hour arguing about it.  Rather than help us set the table, he'll lay on the kitchen floor crying for fifteen minutes about how hard it is to put a fork on the table.  Once he's cried himself out, he'll ask me to stop setting the table myself so I can play with him.  Then another fifteen minutes of crying about how I've hurt his feelings because I won't.

In a moment of frustration, Kitty asked him why he was choosing to be so difficult about these things when it would be much easier to just help out.  His response:  "Sometimes I just make it hard.  I don't know why."

As shockingly mature a response as that may be for a four year old, it doesn't change the fact that this situation is not optimal.  Patience is called upon with frequency.  Sometimes successfully.

But we haven't given up or given in.  We continue to try to find ways to draw the connection for Finn between helping around the house and getting others to help you.  In other words, we bribe him with television.

Lo and behold, it's working.  He now is eager to help out, if it means he can get another twenty minutes of Jake and Neverland Pirates or Phinneas and Ferb.  He starts asking how he can help on the way home from school.  This is great, as long as we have something for him to help out with.  Which I was surprised to discover, I don't always have.

Seeing that I had come up blank the other day, Finn made a suggestion.  He asked, "How about I help by not picking my nose any more?"  

That sounded pretty good, but before I could accept, he added, "Actually, I don't think I'll stop picking my nose."

We were so close.  If I can't get him to stop picking his nose through television bribery, I'm afraid all hope is lost on that front.  

Sorry Finn's future ex-wives.  At least he's setting the table!  Though I'd make sure he's washing his hands first...